


if you can stomach it

by icantwritegood



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Guns, Hotel, Intrigue, Violence, a cute snake, arms deals, enemies to... enemies who have sex, just the way i like it, pretty grim and grisly, ryan's a spy, shane's just a nasty guy, woop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-06-26 10:40:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15661563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantwritegood/pseuds/icantwritegood
Summary: Ryan thinks he has it all scoped out. He knows the who's who of this 'hotel', or residence for the rich and apathetic. Until an unknown man makes himself very well known indeed, and lives are put on the line. It all depends one who's willing to go the furthest, and who has the stomach to see it through till the end.





	1. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"The revenge you want will be yours in time. If you have the stomach for it."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> violence!! beware!!!!

_It was the middle of the night. The room was hot and heavy, almost entirely dark, the light curtains billowing slightly in the stiff breeze. But despite the otherwise dead silence, there were low moans filling the room, breathless with pleasure, erratic in their volume, in their timing. But it wasn’t just the lack of air that had Shane breathless._

_The man’s body was warm in his hands, skin damp, muscles sliding under his fingers, panted breaths hot against his ear. Shane buried his face in the other man’s shoulder, teeth closing against the man’s slick neck, feeling the fingers dragging down his back, the firm body arching under him. A hand tangled in his hair, desperately tight, running through it._

_“Fuck.” More gasped breaths, in time with their movements, fingers digging into Shane’s shoulders hard. “Fuck. Ah- Harder. Oh fuck- yeah, that’s-” He let his head fall back against the pillow, eyes fluttering closed, Shane’s tongue running along his jaw. “Mm.” He brought his lower lip back into his mouth, biting down hard on it, feeling Shane’s hands gripping his waist, pulling him forwards as he pushed into him. “Ah-_   _Fuck, I-" Another rough moan, fingers tightening in Shane's hair. "Yeah. Fuck.”_

_The phone trilled loud and sharp, the two of them sighing heavily. By the fifth ring they’d reluctantly separated, Shane reaching for the source of annoyance, the other source of annoyance lighting up one of his cigarettes beside him. Shane put the phone to his ear, rubbing his eyes._

_“Hello?”_

_“Did I wake you?”_

_Shane glanced behind him, just about able to make out the other man’s pretty profile in the light of the cigarette; the straight nose, the full lips, the sharp jaw. “Uh, kind of.”_

_“My response is the same either way. I don’t care.” Horsley sounded as cool as ever. Shane doubted she ever slept. “Apparently the asset is in the building.”_

_Shane’s heart froze in his chest, grip tightening on the phone. “…Repeat that?”_

_“The asset is_ in  _the building. Has been the whole time.” He could almost picture her shrug of apathy. “Ryan Bergara. Norris' man. Apparently he’s the hitman for-”_

_Shane’s eyes remained wide, not taking in the rest of the sentence. He knew the rest of the sentence. He’d just never known the name that’d accompany it. “…Are you sure?”_

_“Are you serious? Of course I’m sure.” A sharp laugh. “What kind of question is that?”_

_“Yeah. Ha.”_

_“Go find him,” said Horsley, her voice already receding as she went to hang up. “And sort him out, yeah?”_

_The line went dead. “Yeah. No problem.”_

_Shane placed the phone back down on the hook, rolling back over onto his elbows just in time to see Ryan give a leisurely stretch. Shane pushed himself upright, staring at the other man’s smooth silhouette in the low orange light through the curtains, each curve of his lean body. Ryan’s eyes glinted as he looked at him, taking another long, hard drag on the cigarette._

_“So- Yeah, anyway.” Shane ran a hand back through his hair, which was damp with sweat. “Uh, I have to go get something. From the kitchen.”_ A knife. Or a gun. Gun would be easier.

_He heard the covers rustle as Ryan moved before he could, rolling on top of him, straddling him firmly. “You sure?”_

_Shane nodded, swallowing, feelings Ryan’s hands soft either side of his neck. How could hands like that belong to a killer? “It’s important.”_

_“I think this is more important,” mumbled Ryan against his lips, an arm slipping around his neck, a hand up through his hair. He felt Shane’s hands settle on his hips, tight. “Don’t you?”_

_Shane closed his eyes, feeling Ryan’s mouth on his, ripping his common sense right out of his head. He sat forwards, a hand catching Ryan on the back of his neck, their bodies sliding against each other, two silhouettes entangled, mouths glued together. But there was something off now, their movements too harsh, grips too tight, mouths working against each other, aggressive. Shane didn’t mind this, however. No, he minded the reason behind it. But even with this reason heavy in his mind, the feeling of Ryan’s body against his was heavier._

_He rolled over, flipping them, his lips barely leaving Ryan’s. Ryan pushed his head back into the pillow, teeth gritted to stop himself from crying out. He just had to outlast the other man now, sneak out while Shane was in a coma. But he had a feeling this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought it might be. He gave an involuntary shudder as Shane rutted into him_ _, his hands gripping the damp pillow behind his head. He let out a rough moan as Shane pushed into him again, hitting the same spot as before. The third turn had Ryan lash out, arms wrapping around Shane’s body as he arched off the bed, a breathy curse forced from his lips. The taller man sat back, pulling Ryan up with him, their eyes locked._ Well, this is suddenly very intense indeed _. He could feel Ryan’s hand gripping the back of his neck as he continued pushing up into him, their harsh moans echoing each other, mouths centimeters apart, breath mingling. Within seconds Ryan had relaxed against him, chin resting on Shane’s shoulder, feeling Shane’s breaths hot against his neck, out of time with his own as their bodies moved together. Shane closed his eyes, letting his head rest against Ryan’s, fingers digging into the other man’s rocking hips hard enough to hurt._

_Ryan’s hand was still gripping the back of his neck, and Shane wondered if that same hand would be back there soon, and if it would be the last thing he’d ever feel._

* * *

The hotel room was large, and lavish, and full of light. The main woman stood at his arm, short and slight and smart, and sneaky, and slightly evil. She was introducing him to her cronies, her gang. But oh, Ryan knew all of them already. He knew Norris, the one talking, the brains and the beauty rolled into one. He knew Horsley, some added brains on the side. He knew McClintock, the man who signed for everything Norris did, who took the blame, who took the jail time. Goldsworth, the hitman, who he’d had a run-in with one dark night, a long time ago. He knew them all, he'd seen them all before, but he only had to kill one. When the time was right.

“Where’s Shane?” asked Norris, pushing her mane of curls back as she straightened up to look for him.

“Don’t know why you’re straightening up,” quipped Goldsworth, arms folded on the back of the chair he was sat across. “He’s pretty hard to miss.”

 _Shane? Who the fuck is Shane?_  Ryan didn’t have to pretend to be curious.

“There was some issue with one of the staff,” said Horsley coolly, typing away on her laptop in the corner. “He went to sort it.”

“Is he the manager or something?” asked Ryan, trying not to appear overly interested. “Does he run the place?”

Goldsworth snorted. “Ha, yeah. You could say that.”

“He’s Under, is he?” asked Norris, already allowing her scarf to float back into place around her slim neck.

“Yes,” said Horsley, not taking her eyes from the screen in front of her. “Pretty messy, I heard.”

That seemed to be that. Ryan allowed Norris to take his hand, lead him out into the corridor of the apartment building, their footsteps loud against the marble as they made their way to the elevator. She hit the button that said ‘out of order.’ It was below the basement, which was ‘reserved for staff’.

“Hope you have a strong stomach, Ryan,” she grinned, giving him a quick kiss. “This guy’s one of my favorites.”

He heard the screaming first, before the elevator doors even opened onto the large, dark room with the single lightbulb hanging above an occupied chair. The source of the screaming sat in this chair. His clothes were disheveled, his name-badge lopsided, all speckled with blood, which Ryan could only assume had come from his face somewhere. This was only an assumption, however, as there was currently a bag over the man’s head. The bag moved erratically, wildly. There was something else in the bag with the man, that was clear by the way he was struggling desperately. Ryan swallowed, trying not to show how queasy he felt at the sight.

“This is Shane Madej,” smiled Norris, gesturing at someone standing off to the side. “My… fixer.”

The man was tall, and slim, his back to them as he watched the still-screaming man in the chair. He stood in an almost feminine manner, a hip out to one side. He wore a black waistcoat over a white shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up to his elbows, surprisingly neat for the situation he was overlooking. He raised a hand to retrieve the cigarette from his mouth, showing the black leather gloves covering his long fingers. Maybe he was doing more than just overlooking the scene. Ryan didn’t look away as Shane glanced back over his shoulder, heavy-lidded, disinterested. He brightened at the sight of Norris, however, turning on his heel to join them on the outskirts of the dark room. Ryan slipped an arm around Norris’ waist as the man approached in an attempt to appear casual. _Fuck. Fuck, who is this guy_.

“Fran,” smiled Shane, a warm expression. His drawled words were just about audible over the screaming. “Didn’t know you’d be paying a visit. I would’ve had the place tidied up a bit.”

“Nah, it’s good to see you’re doing your job,” she grinned, winking at him. “This is Ryan, by the way. Ryan Bergara. My… paramour.”

Ryan hesitated to extend a hand, an eyebrow raised. “The gloves clean?”

Shane shrugged, flexing the fingers of the hand not holding the cigarette. “Not exactly. Nothing here is. Including you, now.”

Ryan laughed, an eyebrow raised. “I’ve seen too much, have I?” He was struggling not to break out in a sweat, despite his words.

“You’ve seen a pet of mine having a snack, that’s all.” Shane half-turned, nodding at a woman lounging further down the room. His voice remained low, just for Ryan and Norris to hear. “I’ll introduce you.”

The woman skipped over to the screaming man, untying the bag, gently reaching in and retrieving a long, windy creature. It was a pale milk white, apart from the smears of blood on it. Shane put out a hand for it, and the curly-haired woman placed the snake in it. It calmly wound its way up Shane’s arm, stopping at his elbow, turning to slip back up and set its white head against his black glove. He held it up, smiling at it, his eyes flickering to see Ryan’s reaction. Ryan pretended to not be entirely disgusted and absolutely horrified at the sight of the bloodied serpent.

“Her name’s Cal,” smiled Shane, still watching Ryan’s face closely. “Short for Calcium.”

Ryan nodded to disguise his swallow, extending a hesitant hand to it. “Ha. Because she's milky. I get it.”

“Ah.” Shane retracted the snake, arching an eyebrow. Its tongue flickered out, tasting the air. “I wouldn’t go trying to be friends with her, now. She has a mean bite.”

“Bit like her owner,” grinned Norris, giving Ryan a playful nudge. “Never seen anyone try to pet her, though.”

“Oh, you’ve bagged yourself a brave one, have you?” Shane distractedly scratched the light beard along his jaw, as if he didn’t have a literal snake wrapped around his wrist. “That’s new.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call myself brave, exactly,” replied Ryan, keeping his gaze fixed on Shane’s as he saw the curly-haired woman taking the bag off the now-silent man in the background. He didn’t want to see. “Just curious.”

Shane nodded at this. “That’s a fair distinction.”

“Shane,” said Norris, suddenly quite serious altogether. “What did that guy do?”

Shane raised his eyebrows, puzzled, before remembering. He turned again to look at the swollen face of the man slumped in the chair. “Oh yeah. Turned out he was a rat. Straight to the Feds.” He glanced back, watching Ryan. “Can’t have that.”

“You have designated punishments, do you?” asked Ryan casually, tilting his head aside in an effort to convey genuine interest. “Rats get the snake.”

“Liars get the gun,” replied Shane, in a manner that had Ryan very worried about whether or not he was messing. “Cheaters get hanged. And if you piss me off, you get the ol’ tar and feather.” He grinned at the flicker of concern across the shorter man’s face. “Ha, I’m kidding about the last one. I think.”

Ryan’s smile dropped as the man turned away, sauntering back across the room towards the chair. This guy was clearly insane. But unfortunately, Norris followed, Ryan in tow. Ryan still couldn’t look at the man in the chair. Maybe he was dead, maybe he wasn’t. Ryan hoped, for his sake, that he was.

“She going back in?” asked the curly-haired woman, nodding towards the snake.

“Nah,” replied Shane, his smile gentle as he looked at the snake. It was wound around his wrist, its head draped over his index finger, where his thumb softly pet it. “Don’t want to wear her out. Stressful job, chewing faces.”

To Ryan’s horror, the people around him laughed at this. He forced himself to smile, but couldn’t make it past a small one. He glanced up, seeing Shane still watching him with sharp eyes. Ryan didn’t look away. He couldn't show weakness, or hesitation, not so early on. Not ever.

“Dinner’s up in my room in an hour,” said Norris, placing Ryan’s arm around her shoulders. “If you wanna come.”

“Dine with the queen? How could I miss out on that.” Shane turned to the curly-haired woman, one hand still holding Cal, the other on his hip. “Might as well just kill this guy now. Pretty sure he’s dead already, but better make sure.”

Ryan steered Norris away, back towards the elevator. He didn’t flinch as he heard the gunshot; he’d heard many of them before, anyway. But when he stepped into the elevator, and the doors slid shut, he couldn’t help but feel relieved. The energy that that man gave out was almost oppressive in its weight, its force. Ryan relaxed back against the wall, hands gripping the gold rail.

“He’s a nice guy, really,” said Norris, fixing her already-perfect face in the mirrored walls. “Just a bit wack. Which makes him invaluable.”

Ryan nodded, slipping up behind her, arms around her waist. “Mm. And what does he do, exactly?”

She shrugged, looking at him in the mirror. “Fixes things for me.”

“Like… anything?”

She turned to look at him, an almost patronizing look on her face. Which meant he was succeeding in his portrayal of the bimbo boyfriend. “Goldsworth is good at killing, but he lacks the… intellect that Shane has. So I send Goldsworth on the public killings. But Shane takes care of inner problems.”

Ryan blinked. “Inner?”

“Rats. Liars. Double-crossers. He finds them, and he gets rid of them for me.” She smiled. “He can sniff out a rat like a fucking bloodhound, it’s insane.”

 _Right. Fuck_. Ryan nodded, following her out of the elevator, down towards her room. The surrounding rooms were occupied by her pawns and pieces, the main ones of which were still lounging in her room. He could hear them, laughing and chatting and having a ball altogether. Norris flashed him a smile, reassuring as she placed a hand on the door.

"Relax, Ry," she said, pushing the door open. "You're safe when you're with us."

* * *

Shane strolled down the corridor towards her room, whistling a jolly tune to himself as he swung the master key around a long finger. He liked this place. Always had. The aesthetic of it was pleasing, and it had everything a person could ever want. Norris' Headquarters, essentially. And it was his to watch over. He went straight into the room, not bothering to knock, since he could hear the uproarious laughter from inside already. Norris sat on the _chaise longue_ , legs tucked elegantly beside her as she entertained her friends and companions.

"-and I said, _prosecco?_ Does this _look_ like Italian food?" She waved a slim-fingered hand, dark skin smooth and soft. "At least bring a French wine. Or a champagne, as I asked!"

Everything was angled towards her, from the people, to the drinks, to the food. She didn't even have to try. Goldsworth gave Shane a sharp look as he walked in, which Shane returned. McClintock gave him a hearty embrace, a hard slap on the back with it. Horsley did her usual nod, raising her glass of whiskey ever so slightly. It wasn't often they all managed to be together in the same room on the same day, so there was a bit of a high school reunion vibe going on. Apart from _him_. The stranger.

Shane saw him at the drinks cabinet, across the room. He was pouring two drinks, champagne, back to the rest of them. He'd clearly made himself at home; the dark shirt was untucked, but still gathered slightly at his slim waist. The sleeves were folded halfway up his forearms, and when he finally turned, it appeared Norris had been at him; his top few buttons were opened to the bottom of his chest, a lovebite or two evident. Shane lit up a cigarette, watching him. _How dare you_. He let the smoke roll out from his mouth. _How dare you be so attractive at a time like this_. 

"Grab Shane a drink, would you, honey?" called Norris over the back of the chair, her bathrobe tastefully loose. "He's had a rough evening."

Ryan didn't smile, or laugh, unlike the rest of them. He gave Shane a lingering look as he turned back to the drinks. He leaned forwards to get the tall bottle back, stretching his body in a downright tantalizing manner. The dark shirt slipped slightly off his shoulder with the movement. Shane averted his gaze for the tenth time that minute, fists clenching by his sides.  _Do you know what you’re doing, you little bastard?_  Ryan hadn’t fixed himself; he stood with his back to the occupants of the room as he poured a few glasses of cool champagne, smiling over his shoulder at Norris as she asked some question or other. That smile. That ray of sun in a gesture, that glow that’d make you melt. Shane tilted his head up, exhaling sharply, glowering at the ceiling.

“You drink?”

Shane glanced back down at this, his eyes landing on Ryan’s.  _Don’t stand so close_. “Not so early in the day, usually.”

“It’s just some bubbly,” grinned the shorter man, his large eyes sparkling as much as the drink. By now the man’s shirt was hanging loose, baring his smooth skin, his lean chest. “I can’t tempt you, no?”

 _You already are. And I think you know you are_. “Mm. I guess a sip won’t hurt.”

Shane took the offered glass, turning on his heel, away from the other man. He strode across the room to the balcony, standing on it for a long moment in solitude, eyes closed as he tried to regain his bearings. He stopped fidgeting with the cigarette, instead slipping it into his mouth. The view was by far the nicest from here, out of all the rooms in the hotel. Of course it was. Norris had the nicest of everything available. The best of the best. He felt movement beside him, and for once, he was glad it was Goldsworth.

"Heard you fed the snake," grinned the man, a shark's smile. "Hope you're not thinking of feeding your own snake with Norris' new boy."

Shane raised an eyebrow at this, sparing him a withering glance. "Don't sound quite so jealous, Ricky. It's very unattractive."

"Pff. You're not that much better, Madej." 

"Ricky," began Shane, the name a pitying sigh. "I'd really advise you just stick to the killing people, and avoid the battle of wits as best as you can."

"Just because I-"

"You have the finesse of a toddler with a shovel," said Shane, finally turning to face him. "And the skills of one too. So save it, yeah?"

He stepped around the other man, placing the cigarette back in his mouth, rolling his eyes. It had been a long day, and really, he just wanted food and sleep. That was all. No unnecessary bullshit, no action, just to sit, and relax, and-

"Hey." Norris sidled up to him, the smile on her face that meant she was about to ask him - _order_ him - to do something. "You know I'm gonna be out of town for a while, yeah?"

"Mm. A week, right?"

"Right." She gestured vaguely towards the people still gathered around the low table. "I don't really want to have to bring Ryan with me. He doesn't really get what I do. So could I leave him here with you? Just for the week?"

Shane could feel himself flushing, for whatever reason that he was completely, absolutely aware of. "Am I a babysitter now too?"

"Just for a week. Just keep an eye on him, make sure he's, well, safe."

"Oh, yeah," replied Shane dryly. "The guy looks like he definitely couldn't defend himself. No way. A total twig."

Norris rolled her eyes at this. "Look, you know what sometimes happens to people close to me, yeah?"

"Yeah. It's fine, I'll do it." Shane watched the man in question laughing and chatting with McClintock, as bright and bubbly as the drink in his hand. "Keep an eye on your pet."

"He's not my pet," she said half-heartedly, already moving away. "Thanks, Shane!"

Shane watched as she sat down beside Ryan, leaning against him. And Ryan placed his arm around her shoulders, and kissed her on the cheek, and didn't take his eyes from Shane's. Not for a second. Shane narrowed his eyes slightly, downing his own glass of champagne. There was something off about this one. Yes, he was stupidly hot, and pretty witty, but there was something else. A look in his big eyes that would make you think twice about trying to outsmart him. _You're different_. Shane moved to the table, leaning down to stub his cigarette out in the ashtray. And even though there were six people there, he and Ryan may as well have been in a room alone. _You're different, and I'm going to find out why._


	2. Toys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also the song Mad About You by Hooverphonic (https://youtu.be/6EA-MIYY1bg) is the inspo for this fic, the vibe, the lyrics, it got all that thang

"Just make sure no one hurts him. And that-"

"-he's watered, and fed, and tucked up nice and neat in bed at half eight sharp." Shane gave her a dry look, following her to the elevator as she talked back over her shoulder at him. "I know what to do."

She stopped at the elevator, rolling her dark eyes as she turned to look at him. "Of course you do. I think I forgot who I was talking to."

Shane grinned at her, arms folded across his chest as he watched Norris skip onto the elevator, her wispy white dress floating around her. It was late in the night, about half three, and she had a plane to catch. And arms to deal. And people to corrupt and sinfully-priced wine to drink on the balconies of warlords. Normal Norris activities. But Shane had to stay in the small hotel, and keep watch, and stay sharp. The sinfully-priced wine would still apply, however. Yet even though the hotel was bordering on obnoxiously luxurious, he still felt uncomfortable. And it wasn't due to Horsley's silent presence or Goldsworth's murderous looks thrown at him every five seconds. It was due to the new guy. Ryan. Who was lazing in Norris' suite, all dashing and detached from what was going on around him. But mainly dashing. 

"Just make sure this one doesn't get horrifically murdered," she said, giving Shane's arm a squeeze before stepping back into the elevator, tucking her arm through the strap of her handbag. "He's actually one of my favorites, so far."

Shane nodded. "Sure. Yeah. Keep the prized pony safe."

He waited until the elevator doors had dinged shut before turning to face the room. It was the only occupied room on the floor, apart from Horsley's further down the hall behind him. The door was open, low music drifting out of it. For the first time since she'd arrived, Norris' room was empty, but for Ryan. Shane rubbed a hand pensively over his mouth, feeling the stubble scratching his fingers. Then he slipped his hands into his pockets, sauntering down the hall towards the door, his footsteps ringing loud and confident. Just to make sure Ryan knew who was coming. 

Ryan was standing by one of the bookshelves, seemingly preoccupied with the titles. He didn't turn, despite the footsteps having come to a halt an unignorable distance away. He still didn't turn, even as Shane wandered further into the room, right between the couches, over to the balcony. Ryan spared a heavy-lidded glance over his shoulder, just to calm his nerves. The footsteps were slow and ominous, like any second they'd be right behind him. They stopped again. The sound of a match lighting, a cigarette sparking up. Ryan poured himself a small, stiff drink from the cabinet beside him before finally sitting on the couch, in full view of Shane, and Shane in full view of him. _Alright. Begin_.

"Ryan." Shane stood in the doorway to the balcony, legs crossed as he leaned against the white frame, the thin curtains floating around him. His head almost touched the top, his tousled hair brushing it. “How does it feel, hm?”

Ryan pretended to be very interested in the movement of his drink around his glass. “How does what feel, Shane?”

“Being Fran’s pet.” Shane straightened up off the door frame, stepping into the room. He actually moved surprisingly softly when he wanted to, for a man of his stature. Ryan would have to watch out for that. “Being her boy-toy. Or her whore, if you don't mind the offensive language.”

Ryan looked up with just his eyes, a small smile appearing on his face. "Well what's it like to be a whore's bodyguard, then?"

Shane shrugged. "It feels... like I'm rich. But back to your answer. Or lack of."

Ryan watched the other man's long fingers placing the cigarette back in his mouth. "You're not jealous, are you?"

“Oh, not at all. That’s not the direction I tend to swing in.” Shane had found his way back to the small drinks cabinet, the bottle clinking off the glass as he filled it. “But I’d assume it feels a bit… degrading.”

Ryan sat back on the sofa, one arm resting across the back, the other holding his glass on his crossed legs. “Oh, not really.”

Shane watched him, waiting for him to continue. “Well, come on. You can tell me how it feels to be Fran’s living sex doll.”

 _It’s invaluable, that’s what it is_. “I highly doubt I can tell you anything.”

“Then we’re going to have a very quiet week ahead of us.” Shane stood on the opposite side of the table, a hip out to one side, where his hand held his glass very precariously by the rim. “How’d you guys meet?”

Ryan shrugged. “Hooked up one night, and the rest is history.”

“Oh, how romantic.”

“I never said it was going to be romantic.” Ryan looked him up and down, absent-mindedly swilling his drink as he did so. “You didn’t strike me as a man who cared for romance, anyway.”

Shane raised an eyebrow at this. “And what _did_ I strike you as.”

 _A crazy son of a bitch, that’s what_. “You mean when I saw you torturing a man via snake last night? Mm, you didn’t strike me as the most charming individual.”

A quiet laugh. “Squeamish, are you?”

Ryan thought for a minute, finger lightly tapping the side of his glass. “No. No, just sane.”

“I doubt that.” Shane was still watching him closely, too closely, so closely that Ryan felt strangely vulnerable all of a sudden. “Fran never chooses sane ones.” A pause. “What did you do? Before this?”

Ryan spread his arms slightly, an eyebrow raised. He noticed the taller man's gaze flickering to his chest, visible between his half-open buttons. “What is this? An interrogation?”

Shane smiled crookedly. “You’ve clearly never seen how I interrogate.”

“I can imagine.”

“I don’t think you could.” Shane watched as the shorter man got to his feet, watched as he strolled across the room towards the record player. “You’re not going to give me an answer here, are you?”

“I don’t see why I should,” replied Ryan, flipping through the records, trying not to let his shoulders tense at the thought of the other man just a few feet behind him. “I don’t owe you anything.”

Shane stayed where he was, pushing a hand back through his hair as he followed the other man’s wandering with his eyes. Ryan turned to meet his gaze, leaning back against the table behind him, hands gripping the edge. He stood with his head tilted ever so slightly, throat bared, the stubble emphasizing the clean cut of his jaw. Shane devoured him with his eyes, despite his best attempts not to. But every inch of the other man was so perfect, so soft yet so rugged at the same time _._ And to his genuine surprise, Ryan absent-mindedly undid the last few buttons on his navy shirt, bringing the fabric back either side of him as he rested back against the table again. Laying himself out, unashamedly. Shane lowered his glass, mouth suddenly too dry to swallow.  _Son of a bitch_.

“You run the hotel, do you?” asked Ryan innocently, as if completely unaware as to what he was doing. Shane’s eyes were stuck to the shifting muscles of his torso, and he wasn’t even trying to hide it. “Must be stressful."

Shane swallowed, raising his gaze back to meet Ryan’s. The shorter man was smiling knowingly. “You get used to it.”

“Do you?” Ryan stretched leisurely, letting his hands find the shelf behind him, the shirt hanging back either side of his body. “Some things are just impossible to get used to, right?”

Shane didn’t reply. He kept his drink near his mouth, eyes glued to the other man’s defined body, all smooth and lean and wanting.  _Fuck. Holy fuck._  He wanted to cross the room, to rip the shorter man’s clothes off, to ride him hard right there and then. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. And he wouldn’t.

“It’s late,” said Shane quietly, placing his drink aside. “I’m going to leave.”

“You know, Fran's very possessive," said Ryan with a casual wave of a hand, finally straightening up off the table. Shane felt his heart slow the second the shirt fell back into place around the other man's body. "Doesn't like anyone touching what's hers."

Shane took a sip of his drink, clearing his throat. "I know. I know more than you ever will."

"You think she'd be mad at me for looking through her records?" Ryan leaned over the items in question, a hand on either side of the box, his back arched in a manner that was a crime. "I wouldn't like to see her angry."

 _Oh, don't you play the naivety well, you little prick_. "Don't worry. She'll probably get sick of them soon enough. She always gets sick of her toys within a few weeks."

Ryan glanced back over his shoulder at this, straightening back up. "And what happens to her toys?"

"Depends on how fun they've been," replied Shane nonchalantly, wandering closer to him, hips swaying ever so slightly. "Sometimes she passes them to her friends." He gestured vaguely, fingers held out from around his glass. "Horsley gets the smart, useful ones. Which are rare. Goldsworth might get the ones who displeased her in any way." He kept his eyes fixed on the shorter man's, searching for any hint of fear, of panic. "But I _always_ get first pick. And the ones I get don't come back."

Ryan swallowed, remembering the red smeared on white scales, the beady eyes, the flickering tongue. "It doesn't sound like you're talking about her toys."

Shane didn't drop his gaze, looking right down into Ryan's eyes. "I think we both know what I'm talking about."

Ryan took a deep breath, picturing the basement, the man's screams, the bloodied bag, and that pale white serpent looped around the taller man's wrist. Shane let the smoke of his cigarette out through his nose, right into the shorter man's face, a lazy exhale. Ryan set his jaw, willing himself not to snap. Not so soon.

Shane suddenly slapped the other man heartily on the shoulder, noting how Ryan clenched his fists as he flinched. "Just a head's up, little guy." He dropped his voice to an almost-pitying whisper, his face matching as he leaned in. "You're not that important."

Ryan had his gaze lowered, head turned aside, but he could still feel the taller man's breath against the side of his face. "I think we both know that I am."

A sharp laugh. Then Shane turned away, crossing the room to the door. He paused, throwing a lingering look over his shoulder at the other man, cigarette halfway to his mouth. Ryan fought the urge to glare at him, swiftly hiding his face, heading over to the balcony, vanishing between the thin white curtains. He leaned on the black iron railing, arms folded as he took a deep breath. Well, he'd have to find out a bit more about this Shane guy, this enigma who had somehow avoided detection for a few years now. Ryan heard the door to the room shut, sending a bit of a chill through him.

A cage is still a cage, no matter how gilded the bars.

* * *

Ryan peeked his head out the door, into the cool marble hallway. It was morning. Late morning, the sun shining through every possible window. He closed the door quietly behind him, deciding to take a little walk around. Scope out the potential field of battle. He stepped into the elevator, finger hovering over the button that said 'out of order'. The button that most likely led to Shane. He opted instead for the button above that, the basement. 'Reserved for staff'. Well, he could go anywhere he wanted, really. And no one could say boo.

Down past the ten other floors, the restaurant, the lobby. The grating rattled back, the doors sliding open, to reveal a dark corridor. A light flickered at the end of it, erratic, pinging lightly with each flicker. Ryan stepped forwards, glancing back as he heard the doors slide shut behind him. He swallowed. It felt like he was somewhere else entirely; somewhere cold, and dark, stuck in eternal winter. The flickering light would've been a tempting sight, had he been a moth. But however, he was not, and the light sent shivers through him in all the wrong ways.

He paused outside the single door below the light, half sure he'd heard some voices inside. The quiet hung heavy in the air. He turned the key that was in it. Unlocked already. Which mean occupied, most likely. He went ahead anyway, pushing open the door, the smell of dust overwhelming. But the sight was even more overwhelming. Boxes upon boxes, all shapes and sizes, stupidly large, unsuspectingly small, going as far as the eye could see, all under a pale blue light. Ryan stood with his mouth hanging open for a long moment. This was it. This was her main stash, where Norris kept her arms, where she hid her dirty dealings. All entrusted to Shane. How the hell had the intel given to him not mentioned this guy once? 

He heard a quiet footstep from nearby, deceivingly soft. He stayed low, waiting for some guard to step around the corner and try to intimidate him. The silence continued, broken only by the sound of Ryan swallowing. He moved on, listening hard, his hands clammy. Maybe he was alone down there. But then again, he knew he wasn't. The voices finally reached him, soft and careful. Horsley and McClintock. 

"Oh, it can be done." Her voice was almost a murmur, secretive. "Just send out the message that everyone needs to put through twice as much as they're doing now."

"You don't think she's reaching for the stars a bit here, no?" replied McClintock, a bit louder, as was his way. 

"She already has the stars. She's trying to bag the entire Milky Way now."

Ryan paused at the corner of the box, eyes fixed on the ground as he unashamedly eavesdropped. He didn't have to, technically. It wasn't a requirement of his job. But it gave him something to do while waiting for the right moment. And it was always important to know the ins-and-outs of those who'll be surrounding you for the unforeseeable future. He let out a quiet breath, and even a sound this low almost drowned out the soft footstep a few meters behind him. He whipped around, eyes landing on the tall figure standing with his hands in his pockets, a very-much-unimpressed look on his face. _Oh fuck_.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked Shane with dangerous nonchalance, strolling towards him, his footsteps ringing loud and clear now. "You're not allowed down here."

Ryan folded his arms across his chest, leaning against box of semi-automatics beside him in an attempt to hide his internal panic. "I wasn't told."

"You can read, right?" asked Shane with narrowed eyes, stopping barely a foot away. "Because I'm certain that there's a sign on the button for this floor that says not to press it."

Ryan shrugged. "I love pushing buttons I'm not supposed to."

"Oh, that you do." Shane glanced up as Horsley and McClintock appeared around the boxes, their suspicious gazes turning to puzzled frowns at the sight of the two men. "I told you I heard someone."

"What's he doing down here?" asked Horsley haughtily, hiding the contents of the clipboard in her hands. "It's off-limits."

"I was under the impression I could go where I wanted when I wanted," said Ryan, matching her tone. "Or do I need to ring Fran and let her know what's happened?"

McClintock's eyes widened at this. "No, no, there's no need for that."

"I think I'll escort you back to your room," said Shane firmly, taking a tight hold of Ryan's arm.

The shorter man turned his head slightly at the hard grip, throwing a sidelong look at him. "I don't need to be escorted anywhere."

"Yes, you do." Shane gave Ryan a bit of a tug, feeling the considerable amount of muscle in the shorter man's arm harden under his fingers. Yet he didn't use it. _Why? What are you waiting for?_ "C'mon. Be snappy."

"Stop pulling me around," said Ryan coldly, finally wrenching his arm away as they stepped outside the storage room. "Jesus. What's your problem?"

"If you're gonna fit in here," said Shane, closing the door behind them before striding on ahead. "You'll have to cross 'eavesdropping' off your list of hobbies."

"I wasn't eavesdropping," said Ryan, following him to the elevator. "I was just wondering what all that was."

"You know full well what it was," said Shane dismissively, the doors sliding shut behind them. He pulled the grating across, holding it closed with one hand. "You're not as stupid as you're pretending. And why _are_ you pretending?"

Ryan leaned back against the low railing, arms folded across his chest, openly moody. "I'm not."

"Oh yes you are." Shane gave a wry laugh, one hand on his hip, the other still holding the grating shut. "Then again, what use is a sex doll that talks back?"

Ryan gritted his teeth at this, his grip tightening on his own arms, still folded stiffly across his chest. "You have a bit of a mouth on you, don't you?"

"A hell of a mouth."

"Mm." Ryan straightened up off the railing, closing the small space between them. "But you're making me unhappy. And Fran won't like me unhappy."

Shane raised an eyebrow slightly at this. "Is that so."

"Oh, definitely." Ryan didn't look away, even as the elevator doors slid open. Shane didn't let go of the inner grating. "When I'm happy, she's happy. And that applies to all emotions."

Shane didn't reply for a moment. "You have her wrapped around your finger, do you?"

Ryan smiled at this, a devilish grin. "More than you could ever imagine."

Shane finally let the grating rattle back, pausing to let Ryan out first. "You must make her very... happy, then. Keep her satisfied."

"Yeah. I do." Ryan pushed open the door to his room, letting his eyes linger on the taller man for an unnecessary amount of time. "Just as you have to keep me satisfied."

Shane knew he should've left it at that. He should've closed the room door, and locked it, and swallowed the key. But instead, he followed Ryan in, shutting the door quietly behind him. The entire floor was theirs right now. No one else around. He watched as Ryan sat down on the armchair, lounging back.

“You have to do what I say, right?” asked Ryan casually, elbow resting on the arm of the chair, chin resting on his hand.

Shane shrugged, still standing by the door. “Not really. No.”

“But you have to keep me happy.”

“I have to keep you unharmed,” replied Shane, his raised eyebrow making it clear what he thought of this. “Even though you don’t really look like you need me to do that for you.”

“I don’t.” Ryan waved a hand vaguely at the room. “And I don’t think I’m in much danger here, anyway.”

“That’s what the last one thought.” Shane let the sentence linger in the air for a moment before simply moving on. “You have a bit more life than the others had, I’ll give you that. Bit more fire to you.”

“Mm. Is that because I passed your test?” Ryan had his fingers resting across his mouth, but his smile was still clear. “Do you usually have them taken down to the basement to try and scare the shit out of them? That your usual move?”

Shane didn’t reply for a moment, an unimpressed eyebrow arched. “I don’t have time for frightened little boys getting entangled in my business.” He shrugged again, a small smile appearing on his face. “You barely passed, anyway.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows at this. “Barely?”

“You’re not the best at controlling your face.” Shane mimicked wide-eyed terror, a hand acting as a barrier on one side of his face. “Maybe if I don’t look at the dead guy, he won’t exist! Let me just almost fall out of the room real quick before I chuck up my guts.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I love the way you’re acting as if I’m the one with the problem here.”

“I’m just doing my job, little guy,” said Shane, arms spread slightly as he wandered forwards. “It’s not my fault if you won’t be able to handle the heat. But no one’s gonna come snatching you out of the fire. This is what it is, and that’s that.”

Ryan didn’t take his eyes from the taller man’s, a tight knot in his stomach. He had to respond. He had to respond somehow. But how?

He nonchalantly put out a hand, knocking his empty glass from the previous night off the table. It bounced on the carpeted floor, rolling to a halt between his legs. “Pick that up for me.”

Shane stared at him, silent.

“I don’t think Norris will be very happy if she comes back and I’m all stressed and sad,” said Ryan with a fake pout, leaning back in the chair, hands linked behind his head. “And I  _really_  don’t want to have to pick that up.”

Shane’s fingers tapped against his leg, his eyes narrowing. “Right. Of course.”

Still fuming, Shane crouched down to retrieve the glass, mentally cursing the other man. He froze as he felt the leg rest over his shoulder.  _Fuck. Fuck, don’t_. He slowly raised his gaze, up past the tantalizingly close belt buckle, up the shirt buttons, slowing at the bared skin of his chest. Then finally his eyes, heavy-lidded, sultry.  _Please_.

“I’m never sure what to do to relieve stress,” said Ryan airily, noticing how Shane placed the glass aside, but didn’t move from where he was now kneeling. “It’s going to be such a long week without Fran.  _Such_  a long week.”

Shane placed a hand on the man’s knee, letting his fingers trace down his thigh to where his leg met his hip. He slipped his thumb into the dip there, fingers gripping the side. His other hand rested on Ryan’s other leg. “That’s… very unfortunate.”

“Isn’t it.” Ryan undid his shirt like he was unwrapping an invaluable item, watching how Shane’s mouth parted, jaw visibly working with the struggle to hold back. “Is there anything that could possibly help me?”

 _Me. Me, you bastard whore_. Shane inhaled deeply as he felt the fingers tangling in his hair, pulling his head forwards, his parted mouth inches from Ryan’s buckle. Holding him close, but also holding him in place. “I don’t know.”

Ryan readjusted his hips, making sure his stomach brushed Shane’s nose, his lips. The fingers tightened on his hips, a desperate attempt to keep him still. “I think you do.”

Shane pushed himself up, face inches from Ryan’s, and to his surprise, the other man showed no lack of comfort at his leg being pushed back so far. Shane kept his furious gaze on Ryan’s as the other man simply brought his other leg up to rest on Shane’s other shoulder, head resting back against the chair.

“Why are you doing this?” asked Shane, voice rough after the few minutes of silent torture, his body aching with the stress of staying still. “I don’t- Why?”

 _Because I don’t know how to control you yet_. “Why not?”

Shane spared a dry smile, lowering his shoulders, pushing the legs off either side. “Because Norris would gut me. That’s why not.”

Ryan sat forwards, pushing a hand through Shane’s hair, watching how the other man’s eyes fluttered slightly with the touch. “Then we better not tell her.”

* * *

_Ryan smiled at her, his hands clammy as he moved up behind her at the mirror. “Then we better not tell him.”_

_She lifted her eyes to meet his in the mirror, and he could tell this was it. The next few seconds were going to be detrimental._

_“Could you?” she asked, not taking her eyes from his as she lifted her hair up from her neck. The usual. Undo her necklace. A butler must do what the lady commands. “Be careful.”_

_One hand drifted up to take hold of the necklace; heavy gold. That’s good. Good and strong. “Of course.”_

_The husband, the lord of the manor, doesn’t know, can’t know, and won’t know. This last one was certain as Ryan suddenly twisted the chain, the gold digging into her pale neck. And unlike on television, it only takes a matter of seconds for someone to pass out from strangulation. So the seconds passed. Then a minute or two. Then he checked her pulse; dead as a doornail. Now it was time to get out, and get far away, and get back in contact with his people. So he borrowed some black clothing from the husband’s wardrobe, threw the old butler uniform onto the bed where he’d screwed the husband’s wife, and slipped out the window. The husband wouldn’t mind the death of the wife, once he found out she was trafficking young girls. And even though that wasn’t the reason Ryan had to kill her, it did add a definite sweetness to the act. It was always a plus when the person he had to kill ended up being someone who deserved it. Always._

* * *

Shane kept his gaze lowered, fixed on Ryan’s mouth. The fingers slipped through his hair, holding him close. “I think that’s enough.”

The fingers paused, Ryan looking down his nose at the other man. “Ah. Do you.”

 _No_. “Yes.”

Shane got to his feet, taking a deep, subtle breath. Ryan remained relaxed in the chair, smiling innocently at him. The shorter man lightly tapped the side of his nose.  _I won’t tell if you don’t_. Shane didn’t respond. He turned away, feeling like there was a rubber band between he and Ryan, threatening to yank him back with each step he took. And he wanted to. He wanted to fall on his knees in front of him, to have those legs back over his shoulders, to bury his face in him, to hear him moan, to feel that body writhing because of him, because of what he could do.

Shane paused at the door, a hand resting on the frame as he threw a glance back at him over his shoulder. Ryan was on his feet now, giving the other man a lingering look as he slipped his open shirt off, casually throwing it aside.  _Sweet Jesus_. Shane felt physically sick he was so hungry for the other man, so desperate to have him in his hands, to have him under him.  _Stop looking at me like that. Please, stop_. Ryan turned away, heading back towards the bedroom, stretching leisurely as he did so. Shane leaned on the door frame for a long moment, feeling overwhelmingly weak.

“Fuck,” he breathed, eyes closed as he tried to regain his common sense. “Fuck. Okay. I’m fine.”

He shut the door over behind him, leaning against the cool wall a few meters down as he tried to slow his heart, swallowing hard. Then he straightened up, fixing himself before heading back towards the elevator, and back to the shady business dealings occurring floors below. And the entire time his mind was on Ryan, and his voice, and his body, and the look in his eyes as their lips had wandered dangerously close together.  _Oh, I’m going to hear you scream, Ryan. One way or another._


	3. Cal

Shane didn't manage the hotel. Yeah, sure, he dressed like he did. Yeah, his gold name badge said _Manager_ on it. But he left that up to the actual staff. No, the only thing he really managed was Norris' dealings. 

The hotel was small and quaint, lodged in the side of a cliff, surrounded by a small town of quirky folk. All of which knew Shane only by reputation. The hotel itself was enigmatic; only the richest of the rich stayed there, and they rarely stayed there for more than one night. 

Shane was feared by the townspeople. They all knew what he did. Norris' executioner. Her questioner. Her interrogator. The man who found the names, the whereabouts, the answers to anything she wanted. It was said he could talk to his pet snake. It was said he could make you confess your deepest darkest secrets just by looking at you. This wasn't true. He'd extract them like a particularly grisly dentist. Sometimes in a more literal sense than you'd want to imagine. The townspeople pictured him as some sort of twisted demon. But what the townspeople always saw was a tall man with gentle mannerisms and a soft smile. But the fact remained; if Shane Madej was looking for you, you were going to come back a different person. A different, quieter, more traumatized person.

So why was Ryan Bergara making him feel on edge? This handsome, smart, but relatively unthreatening man had him concerned. None of the others saw it, however. They seemed to brush him aside, they didn't care about another of Norris' honeys. McClintock and Horsley almost seemed to want to protect him, to please him, like a family with a new kitten. If the kitten was built like a lion. But despite the fact that Ryan would clearly be able to crush any of their skulls like a duck egg if he wanted to, he still seemed to elicit the protective streak within others. Maybe it was his baby-face, his radiant smile, his sparkly eyes. Whatever it was, Shane wanted it to stop. 

This was what Shane was thinking about as he lay back on the couch in his own permanent rooms. The balcony doors were open, the evening breeze rolling in nice and soft. He stared at the ceiling, thinking, pondering what it was about Ryan that had his senses tingling. In a bad way. Maybe it was how Ryan seemed to see everything happening in a room, while acting like he didn't have a clue what was going on. The way his reflexes were just a tad too refined to be normal. The way he had light scars across his knuckles. Shane lifted his own hand, studying the few scars he had himself. He'd gotten them from the few fisticuffs he'd partaken in during his time at this job. Which meant so had Ryan. But why did this airhead boyfriend have fight scars on his hands? Shane hummed thoughtfully, trying to sort through the options. And that was when there was a knock at the door.

* * *

_There are three ways to seduce someone. And Ryan knew all of them well. He had been taught them, when he'd first found himself in the job he was in. A risky job, a frightening job, but it paid very well indeed, and he liked the adrenaline rush that came with it._

_The first way to seduce someone, to tempt someone, is money. Give someone money, and if they were desperate enough, they'd do anything for it. These people wanted financial stability, a way to fund their future, or to relieve loved ones of the burdens of capitalism. It was the easiest option._

_The second way to seduce someone is success. These people want to climb high, and be known, and be respected. It was a way to feel good about themselves, a way to ensure security within their organizations or departments. These people also tended to be selfish. Ryan always found this way the hardest, as the people tended to be very smart and very efficient._

_But the third way to seduce someone, and the riskiest way, was sex. These people were the unknown, the erratic, the volatile. They wanted pleasure in the moment, in the now, for no other reason than they wanted it. Ryan had used this option the most, yet the danger that came with it was always the same; who knew what the person would do with you after._

_"You have to keep them on edge," said his boss, Tinsley. "Keep them wanting. Don't give too soon."_

_Ryan nodded. "Yeah. I know."_

_"You're good, Bergara." Tinsley sat across the desk from where Ryan stood, linking his hands on the table. "I might even go as far as to say you're the best."_

_Ryan paused, eyes raised as he thought about this. "...Thanks, I guess?"_

_"You've got it," continued Tinsley, lighting up a cigar, talking as if to the cashier at a check-out. "You've got the whole_ homme fatale _thing. Is that a thing?"_

_Ryan paused again. "I think so, yeah. It sounds cool, anyway."_

_"You're sexy, but innocent. Like a- a slutty virgin."_

_Ryan frowned. "...A slutty virgin."_

_"You want sex, but do you want sex? Yeah you want sex. But not too much. Just a lot."_

_Ryan's face had frozen, one eye narrowed. "Right."_

_"You got the whole face thing going for ya. Body too."_

_Ryan nodded. "This is getting a bit weird, dude."_

_Tinsley sat forwards, raising his thick eyebrows. "Woops. My bad. What I'm trying to say is that I've got a new job for you."_

_Ryan finally sat, folding his arms across his chest as he sat back. "Who?"_

_"Take a look yourself." Tinsley pushed across a folder, within which sat four summaries of four people. "Francesca Norris, arms dealer. Holly Horsley, her accountant. Bernard 'Banjo' McClintock, her signer. Richard Goldsworth, her 'consultant'. You'll need to get in with them."_

_Ryan flicked through them, nodding slowly. "Yeah. Which one am I taking out, though?"_

_"They're due to meet up in a regular spot in a few months, a hotel out in the countryside in France. Fancy as fuck, but mainly Americans." Tinsley tapped the desk. "She's going to be on a deal when you arrive, but she always brings the buyer back for a day or so after. A token of her gratitude." He spread his hands. "Kill 'em."_

_Ryan looked up at this. "Even though I don't know who they are?"_

_"They're taking our business. So we gotta take their life."_

_Ryan sighed heavily, skimming through the file on Norris again. At least she was pretty. "Fine. Yeah, I'll do it."_

_"You'll be going under for a while, Bergara." Tinsley grinned at him as he stood up. "But you won't be alone. Keep an eye on the staff."_

_And that had been that. Until Shane. Until the mysterious, lofty, sharp-tongued and sharp-eyed stranger had popped up. And he'd only be seduced by one thing. And Ryan knew exactly what that thing was._

* * *

Shane paused with the door open, his stomach knotting at the sight of the other man. "What are you doing here?"

Ryan looked up at him, all wide-eyed and innocent. "Oh, woops. I must've gotten lost."

Shane gritted his teeth, at the blatant lie, at the flirty eyes, at how good the shorter man looked with his white shirt and mussed hair. "And what were you trying to find, hm?"

"The bar," replied Ryan with a crooked smile. "Unless you're willing to share some of your own drink. Seeing as I've been so generous with you."

Shane looked down his nose at him. "Too generous. Some would say."

Ryan grinned. "No such thing as too generous in my books."

Shane narrowed his eyes slightly at this. "I'd believe that."

"I- Oh, wow." Ryan slipped right past the taller man, making sure to brush a hand across the other man's stomach as he did so. "This where you keep the snake?"

Shane half-turned to follow him with his eyes, his hand reflexively resting where Ryan had just touched him. "Yeah. She stays in there. Until I need her."

Ryan crouched down to look through the glass, seeing the ghostly head peering out from between the dark leaves, beady eyes watching him. "Wow, that's-"

His own yelp cut him off as Cal suddenly lunged, jaw unhinged, fangs clanging off the glass. He stumbled backwards, feeling strong hands catch his arms, hold him upright. 

"She doesn't like strangers," whispered Shane in the shorter man's ear, not letting go of him. "She has a good eye for people who are bad news, too."

Ryan swallowed at this, trying to appear casual as he brushed Shane's hands off him, one at a time. "It's not just because she's a wild animal, no?"

"She's not wild." Shane stepped around him, simply reaching into the tank, picking her up without a bit of hostility on her end. "She'll do what I want."

Ryan watched as the white serpent slipped under the collar of Shane's dark shirt, looping around his neck, hanging in place like an open tie. "So she's tame."

"She's smart." Shane absent-mindedly raised a hand, rubbing a finger under the snake's small head, eyes stuck to Ryan. "You said you'd like a drink, didn't you?"

 _Fuck no. Not now._ "If it's not too much to ask. I just feel so welcome now."

Shane smiled at this, wandering a few steps closer. "Funny, pretty, _and_ smart. Fran went all-out this time."

Ryan returned the dry smile. "You think I'm pretty, hm?"

Shane didn't reply to this, nonchalantly turning his hand so that his palm was facing upwards. Cal slipped onto it without much prompting. "Would you like to hold her?"

Ryan laughed, hoping he didn't sound half as nervous as he felt. "Are you serious? She just tried to bite my face."

"She'll be fine if I give her to you." Shane picked up Ryan's hand with his free one, turning it so that the palm was also facing the ceiling. "Just stay still."

Ryan swallowed hard, his other hand clenched into a fist as Shane simply let the serpent slide from one hand to the next. Its scales were dry, gripping his skin as it began coiling up his arm. Shane stepped around him, leaving Ryan standing by the tank, his arm still raised as he watched Cal with petrified eyes. Ryan could hear two glasses being filled, the liquid pouring out, bottle clinking. His eyes landed on the couch, beside which was a crumpled cloth stained with smudges of red. He could picture it; Shane relaxing on the plush sofa, gently cleaning whatever poor individual's blood off his dear pet. The same pet that was winding up his arm. He was too scared to turn, to move at all.

"You know, she's basically a living lie detector," said Shane casually, seeing Cal now creeping across Ryan's shoulder, tongue flickering out, tasting him. "She can feel your pulse."

Ryan nodded slightly, ever so slightly. "That's... very interesting."

"She'll bite if you lie," continued Shane, finally stepping into view, passing the glass of scotch to Ryan's hand. "She'll bite if your pulse gets abnormally fast at all. It's pretty amazing."

Ryan kept his eyes fixed on Shane's, face stoney. "Is it."

"She's not venomous. Not enough to kill. But enough to hurt a hell of a lot." He raised his glass to his mouth, watching Ryan closely. "She's an albino eyelash viper. Pretty, right?"

Ryan observed the ridges above the snake's eyes, swallowing. "Yeah. I see the, uh, eyelashes."

"And those fangs." He whistled through his teeth. "Ooh, do people scream."

Ryan swallowed again, feeling the dry scales pushing across the back of his neck. He could feel Cal's nose poking under his jaw, soft, deadly soft. "I'd like you to take her off me. Please."

Shane took a lazy sip of his drink, letting it rest on his tongue before swallowing. "What did you do before meeting Fran, Ryan?"

The shorter man gave him a warning look. "Take her off me. Now."

"I'd expect it was something unassuming," said Shane as if the other man hadn't even spoken. "Waiter? Bartender?"

"I want this stupid snake off me."

"But if you _were_ something so unassuming," continued Shane thoughtfully. "How did you get those scars on your hands?"

Ryan heard the low hiss right beside his ear. He struggled to keep his pulse slow, average. "Shane. I'm serious."

"Because they look an awful lot like fighting scars." Shane slipped his fingers under Ryan's free hand, lifting it up, like he was about to kiss it. "You fight a lot, do you?"

Ryan shook his head; this snake wasn't coming off until Shane got answers, that much was clear. "No."

The hiss got nastier, the serpent's nose prodding his cheek, tongue flickering out. Shane raised an eyebrow, seeing the panic beginning to set in on Ryan's face. _Yeah. Yeah, that's more like it._

"But then where did the scars-"

"Get the fucking snake off me," interrupted Ryan, the words fierce. His heart was beginning to pound in his chest, the snake hadn't stopped hissing for the past minute. "Now. Right now."

"Ryan." Shane's hand drifted up, laying softly on the side of the shorter man's face. The snake still explored the other side. "You look good when you're scared. Really good."

Ryan's eyes were wide, pleading. "Shane, come on. This isn't funny."

"You know, I didn't find it funny when you had your legs over my shoulders yesterday." Shane traced a finger along Ryan's jaw, slow and soft, just like Cal on the other side. "I found it very mean, Ryan. Very cruel. Toying with me just because you know I'd fuck you senseless given the chance."

Ryan's mouth parted as he took a shaky breath, feeling Shane's finger travel down his throat. "Stop. Stop, you're just trying to make my pulse get fast."

Shane's hand slipped around the shorter man's neck, tightening slightly. His thumb pushed Ryan's head back a tad. "Mm. And it's working."

The hissing was loud, too loud, vicious. He could see the pale head out of the corner of his eye. "Shane. Stop it."

"You know what I wanted to do to you?" Shane let his mouth linger just centimeters from Ryan's, looking down his nose at him. "I wanted to fuck you until you couldn't even think anymore. I wanted to fuck that smirk right off your face."

 _Oh shit. Oh shit, he's crazy, and I'm gonna die_. "Fran will kill you if I get hurt. You know she will."

"I wanted to do exactly what you wanted me to do," persisted Shane, quiet, lazy. Cal had gone silent, which meant she was going to strike at any second. He could feel Ryan's pulse thundering under his hand. "I wanted to get lost between your legs."

The snake lunged. The jaws snapped open, fangs gleaming in the few seconds it took to get to Ryan's face. Shane whipped his hand away, the glass in Ryan's hand shattering against the floor. And to Shane's amazement, Ryan's own hand flashed up, catching Cal around her endless neck before she could sink her fangs into his cheek, holding her writhing body away. He spun, flinging her across the room hard enough to hit the opposite wall. His heart stopped once he realized what he'd done. He turned back, eyes wide, and nothing could have prepared him for the blinding slap that Shane laid across his face. Ryan cried out upon impact, stumbling back onto the couch, landing on his side, a hand on his cheek where Shane had struck him. It stung. It more than stung. It _burned_. He lifted his watery eyes to Shane's face, seeing the fury clear and hot. The silence was painful.

Ryan could feel the angry heat of his skin under his hand. He got to his feet, slow, enraged. "If you ever, _ever_ , hit me again, I'll-"

The second slap wasn't as harsh, but it was still hard enough to snap his head aside. He let out a sharp breath, eyes closed, fists clenched by his sides. Shane was looking at him like he was a piece of trash, head tilted slightly, glass of scotch still in hand.

"Don't think you're in control here, Ryan." Shane felt his pulse jump as the shorter man turned back to glare at him, the watery eyes not hiding the unadulterated hatred in them. "Now I'd advise you get out before Cal finds you. She tends to hold grudges."

Ryan wanted to hit him. He wanted to break his stupid pointy nose. He wanted to hit him, and not stop hitting him until he was dead. His cheek still stung, like it had been whipped. Shane's eyes shifted from Ryan's, an eyebrow arching.

"Here she comes now."

And to Ryan's horror, the snake was indeed winding across the floor right towards him, white body against red carpet. It moved with a purpose, wriggling angrily as it headed right for him. Shane smiled as the shorter man turned away, striding back across the room towards the door.

"Hope you enjoyed your drink, little guy," smirked Shane, seeing Ryan pause, shoulders tense, grip white-knuckled on the door. "Don't hesitate to call around."

The door slammed shut, making any items that could shake in the room do so. Shane placed his drink down, getting down on one knee, extending his hand to Cal. The snake curled up in his hand, head drooping, tongue flickering sadly.

"Oh, poor baby." Shane straightened back up, taking his drink again, a concerned look on his face as he carried her towards the balcony. His thumb pet her gently. "Are you alright? Did the nasty man hurt you?"

He sat down on the single seat outside, overlooking the twinkling lights of the town below, the streets illuminated prettily. He let Cal slip back around his neck, under his shirt collar, her favorite place. Then he lit up a cigarette, kicking a foot up on the railing of the balcony, and settled down to think.

* * *

Ryan slammed the door shut behind him, sliding down against it, falling to his knees. He felt ill. He felt sick with disgust, with detestation, with panic. He felt the cool marble under his hands as he took a moment to gather himself. His cheek still burned. It had been a hell of a slap, Ryan had to admit that. He wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of a punch. Looking at the man, you wouldn't expect him to be able to hit. In comparison to his height, he was relatively thin, slim. Ryan now realized he was more wiry than anything else, built like a whip, sharp and lean. _Yeah, you might be able to pack a punch. But can you take one?_

He moved to the mirror, examining his face. It had started to swell slightly, not that this was obvious on his already-chubby cheek. A bruise would definitely form, but it'd probably clear up before Norris got back. He needed something like a black eye, a bust lip, if Norris was going to punish Shane.

Ryan wandered into the kitchen, moving to the heavy table in the center. Maybe if he hit his face off it hard enough. He'd probably be able to bust his lip pretty easily this way. So he placed his hands on the oak, closed his eyes, and squared his shoulders. _Come on, Ryan. C'mon. You've been through worse_.

But before he could complete the desperate move, there was a knock at the door.

"Room service!"

Ryan straightened back up, eyes widening at the familiar voice. He hurried through the sitting area, yanking the door open, a genuine smile appearing on his face for the first time in weeks. "Steven!"

"Shh." His friend and coworker shuffled in, pushing a cart with him. "Close the door. C'mon."

Ryan did so, checking the corridor was empty first. "What the hell are you doing here? Tinsley send you out?"

"Yeah, I'm here to pick up whatever info you- Woah, what happened to your face?"

Ryan gingerly prodded his cheek, looking a tad ashamed. "I got slapped."

"Slapped?" Steven kept his voice hushed, moving around the cart to him. "By who?"

"There's a guy here," began Ryan, leaning on the cart as he spoke earnestly. "Shane Madej. He's fucking crazy. I thought I had him under control, but he put his fucking pet snake on me and it almost chewed my fucking face, bro!"

"Did it _slap_ you?"

"No, _he_ slapped me, because I threw the little slithery bitch across the room!" Ryan took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Just tell Tinsley there's five of them. Not four. It's Norris, Horsley, McClintock, Goldsworth, and Madej. I'll keep you updated when I can."

Steven nodded, wheeling the trolley back out, letting Ryan shut the door over. He stood there for a long moment, eyes closed, hand resting on the wood. He crossed the room to the balcony, pushing the door open, stepping out. Shane's rooms were two floors down, two floors below Horsley's down the hall. So Ryan moved to the railing, peering over, and there he sat a few balconies down. Feet kicked up, cigarette in one hand, glass in the other, a living tie around his neck. Cal raised her head, and Shane followed, his gaze landing on Ryan's diagonally upwards. He moved his two fingers from his eyes to Ryan. _I'm watching you_. Ryan gave him a lingering look before stepping away, but even then he heard the derisive laugh float up through the muggy air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (me, chanting quietly, laptop screen gleaming in my eyes as I type wildly) evil shane ! evil shane ! evil shane!


	4. The Siren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"The incarnation of sex and desire, their time never seems to be taken up by work or chores; they give the impression that they live for pleasure and are always available. But they have a touch of innocence and vulnerability. The mix is perversely satisfying: it gives the target the critical illusion that they are a protector, although it is actually the Siren who controls the dynamic."_

Most of the time, books will say that you jump awake when you hear something or someone in your room at night. Television shows will have the character fly upright, eyes wide, gasping. But for any real person, they will know this isn't quite true. What happens is first you wake. Then you freeze. You freeze so suddenly it almost hurts. And even though your heart is hammering almost frighteningly in your chest, you are silent, and your eyes stay wide, and your breathe in caught in your throat like a brick. This was the current state Ryan was in.

The room was black, but for the dotted stars visible through the open window. He had heard something. Without a doubt. A rustling sound, on his bedside locker, where he kept a novel he was currently reading. He was too terrified to turn around. He'd been terrified even before going asleep; the late night meeting with Shane had ensured this. A demon snake, and its human master. It was unlike anything Ryan had encountered before, and he'd encountered a lot - a _lot_ \- of fucked up shit. Yet even with this anxiety in his chest, he couldn't help but wish someone had been in the bed with him, below the sheets, helping him fall sleep in the most inappropriate ways. And the person he wished this had been was Shane. It didn't really baffle him; the crazy ones were always the best in bed _. I wanted to fuck that smirk right off your face_. Ryan had closed his eyes, trying to ignore the sound of Shane's voice, the words he had whispered. _I wanted to get lost between your legs_. 

But now, these concerning thoughts were gone, replaced with nothing but fear. Ryan slowly pushed himself up on his elbows, listening hard, teeth clenched. There was no one in the room, no tall figure at the end of the bed, cigarette in hand. He could actually hear a piano close by, tinkling away nicely. He sat upright, letting out a quiet breathe. The doorway was cracked open a tiny bit, but not enough for anyone to fit through. He frowned, feeling himself relax a tad. Maybe he'd just imagined it.

And as he was laying back down, he saw it. And the It made his heart leap into his throat. A pale white tail, vanishing through the cracked door, a lightening-fast slither. He jumped out of the bed, ripping open the door hard enough for it to slam against the wall. His main door closed simultaneously, he could hear quick footsteps, but he could see the snake slipping out onto the balcony, over the black railings, a deadly ribbon fluttering down the iron poles. Ryan raced out after it, hands gripping the rail as he leaned over it. There she was. Cal, slipping away down the wall, right back to her home. Ryan's heart was thundering in his chest as he breathed heavily, eyes wide.

"What the fuck?" He paced back into the large sitting area, every sense on high alert, every shadow a threat. "What the fucking fuck."

He threw on a shirt, not bothering to button it, yanked on trousers as he snatched his gun, the silencer too, from the top drawer of his bedside locker. Then he was right out into the low light of the hallway, screwing the silencer on expertly, not even having to look as he tightened it, glancing from side to side. The door to the stairway was swinging slightly on its hinge. The piano was louder out here, coming from the open door just down the marble hall; Horsley's room. He recognized the tune; _House of the Rising Sun_. A drunken voice was singing, relatively loud, booming, ignoring the giggled 'shushes' being aimed at it. McClintock.

Ryan moved down the hallway, gun lowered, held in both hands, his finger resting on the trigger. _Where are you, Madej?_ His eyes watched the door to the stairway, the darkness visible just through the thin window. _C'mon_. _Give me reason to put a bullet through your face_. He pushed the door open, raising the gun. No one was there. Not a single footstep could be heard. Ryan took the silent step to the wooden banister, peering over, quietly, so quietly. He kept a leg back to hold the door open, let the light in. Shane couldn't have gotten that far. Not in the ten seconds it took Ryan to get where he was.

"Ryan!"

He jumped, whipping around, slipping the gun into the back of his belt as he did so. "Jesus- Banjo, hey! Hello."

It was McClintock himself, in the flesh. And a lot of flesh it was. But he didn't seem to care. His big belly wasn't exactly hidden in his patterned red-and-green waistcoat. "What has you lurking, my boy? Come on into Ms Horsley's abode, we're having a drink or two!"

Judging by the redness of the man's face, it was ten or twelve. "Oh, I don't know. I'm a bit tired."

"Are you?" Banjo let out a bellowing laugh, hands on his belly as if to contain the jollity within. "A young boy like you, tired? Not a chance! Madej's your age, and he's just arrived."

Ryan found himself being guided to Horsley's room, and a hell of a room it was. A grand piano in the corner, where she herself was tapping out a slightly sadder, slower tune. The carpet was a plush red, the main table a dark wood, pictures shining in frames, a gilded mirror. A life of luxury, encased in a single room. And lounging on the sofa, legs crossed, arm resting on the back of the couch, propped up to hold the cigarette in hand, was Shane. He looked only slightly flushed, hair a tad windswept. His eyes glittered as they landed on Ryan, either anger or excitement. It was hard to tell. Ryan took a deep breath, tearing his gaze away. Shane must've shoved the door as he'd flown past, to trick Ryan into halting, so he wouldn't see Shane around the corner of the hallway. _Sly son of a bitch_.

"Ryan," smiled Shane, his eyes taking their time moving up his body. "I would've thought you'd have been catching some beauty sleep. Not that you need a lot."

"Yeah, my eyes are up here."

"I'll get there eventually."

"Oh, you flirty bastard, Madej." Banjo clamped a hand on Ryan's shoulder, steering him towards the drinks. "Norris would have your guts for garters!" There were multiple bottles, the alcohols various shades of gold. "C'mon, Ryan. Relax with us."

Horsley hadn't turned from the piano. She was still playing away, in a white bathrobe, her grey hair pinned on top of her head. Her glass of red wine sat upon the top of the piano. "... _all alone, it's always the same_..." Her voice was surprisingly soft, probably due to her level of drunkenness.

"What do you want, boy?" asked Banjo, despite the fact he was already picking up what looked like whiskey. 

"... _I'm running towards nothing, again and again and again and again_..." 

Ryan accepted the drink, already turning back to look at Shane, who was looking right back. _Alright, I'll play your little game_. Without taking his eyes from the other man's, ignoring Banjo's incessant ramblings, and Horsley's murmured singing, he took the spot beside Shane on the couch. Shane didn't take his arm from the back, leaving it draped just above Ryan's shoulder, cigarette held languidly between two long fingers. Ryan simply took it, placing it between his own lips, sitting back as he took a drag. He didn't offer it back. Shane didn't take it either. 

"Ricky's on a job," explained Banjo without prompt, plonking himself down on the couch across the table from Shane and Ryan. "Gonna be gone for the night. Nasty business. Fran's going to be back sooner than thought too! One or two days, and the queen will return. Hopefully triumphant. And I..."

Ryan tuned out the man's chatting, seeing as Banjo seemed to be talking mainly to himself by now. He turned his head slightly, and he could already feel Shane's eyes glued to him. It was a game of intimidation. Now, Ryan wasn't the best at winning such a game, but he knew how to undermine it. He knew well. As long as Shane didn't do what he'd done earlier in the night and turn into Satan himself, he could still get him under control. Relatively. 

"Holly!" Banjo called her name as if she was across the hotel, and not just across the room. He lurched to his feet. "Holly, we have to continue planning!"

Ryan waited until Banjo had stumbled around the couch, vanished out of sight. He leaned forwards, stubbing out the cigarette in the glass ashtray. When he sat back, he made sure to shift his shoulders slightly, feeling Shane's arm settle around them, willingly or unwillingly, he wasn't sure. Either way, Shane didn't move away. Ryan turned slightly, resting a hand on the other man's chest, out of sight of Banjo and Horsley. Who were blind drunk, anyway. He could feel Shane's heartbeat under his fingers, speeding up a tad under Ryan's touch.

"So you do have a heart," said Ryan with a dry smile, finally raising his eyes to meet Shane's. "I'm surprised."

* * *

_"Please, Shane! Have a heart!" The man's voice was desperate, tearful. "I have a family!"_

_"Maybe you should've thought of your family before you lied to me." Shane sighed wearily, an almost pitying look on his face. "You know, I only have three requirements when it comes to getting a job here; don't betray me, don't trick me, and don't lie to me! That's all!"_

_"I didn't have a choice." The man, the waiter, had been found red-handed selling information on Norris, on her sales, on her deals. "They were going to hurt my family if I didn't tell them what they wanted."_

_"Family this, family that, Jesus, pal. Maybe you should've thought twice before having a family at all, right?" Shane stepped around the chair, rolling his eyes. "Look, I understand that you were in a bit of a pickle. But you're gonna have to die. And that's that."_

_"Not the snake." The man was petrified, face pale, eyes watery. "Please not the snake. Anything else. Please."_

_Shane had Cal with him. He almost always did. She was where she always was; coiled around his arm, under his shirt, just above where the sleeve was rolled up around his elbow. She slept there, most of the time. "No. No, you don't deserve that." He shrugged. "My job makes having morals hard, but I'm fair when I have the choice to be."_

_"What if I tell you who it was? It was one of Tinsley's. A girl, she- They're trying to push out the rest of the business, they want direct to-and-fro with Norris, they-"_

_"Shh shh shh." Shane waved a dismissive hand. He leaned down, giving the man's nose a light tap with each following word. "I don't trust you. So can it."_

_Sara poked her head through the door. "So? What's it gonna be, boss?"_

_"Just shoot him," said Shane flippantly, as if the man in question wasn't seated just two feet away. "Make it quick. And send out the others for his family, alright?"_

_"What?" The man looked back over his shoulder, eyes wide, almost popping out of his head. "My family? What about my family?"  
_

_"They're gonna know I killed you," said Shane with a half-hearted shrug, wandering back towards him. "And they're gonna want revenge. I can't have that. I can't have any loose ends."_

_"No, no, come on. My daughter's only four!"_

_"And she'll grow up and want revenge someday, bud. Or, well, she would've. But I'll make it quick for them, I swear." Shane gave an apologetic smile, lips pressed together. "This is how the cookie crumbles, baby. You knew what you were getting involved in. And these are the consequences for your actions."_

_Shane passed by Sara on the way out, whistling a light tune to himself, ignoring the man's pleading, the begging, all the usual crap. He shut the door behind him. The gunshot rang out._

* * *

Shane watched the other man's face closely, eyes narrowed. "Anatomically? Sure. Mentally? Not so much."

Ryan was on one knee on the couch now, facing him more directly, basically draped around him. Shane threw a sly glance over his shoulder to make sure Banjo and Horsley weren't watching. They'd moved into the kitchen, still laughing and joking, planning Norris' return party. There was always a return party the night before she actually returned. One more night without the boss, let's go all out, that sort of thing. Shane bit his lip, looking back down into the shorter man's eyes. Ryan's finger was trailing down the buttons of his shirt; not exactly fast, but not going to slow anytime soon either.

"I don't want us to be enemies, Shane." Ryan had his eyes fixed on Shane's, and Shane wondered if he'd ever been turned on simply by a glance before. "I think we should be..." His hand passed Shane's belt, finally reaching its target, hearing the taller man inhale deeply at the touch. "...friends."

Shane let the breath out quietly, even as Ryan took his hand, brought it over, slipped it under his open shirt. "Friends."

"Mm. Good friends." Ryan could feel the other man's hand trailing down his side, Shane's eyes closing. "Would you like that?"

Shane brought his bottom lip back into his mouth, biting on it. "I don't think that'd be a good idea."

"We're gonna go get cigarettes!" came Banjo's voice, making the two of them tense. "Be back in a bit, boys!"

The door slammed shut. And without hesitation, Ryan settled across the other man's hips, hands holding Shane's face, their lips hovering close. He felt Shane's hands settle on his back, rough and warm. He leaned in, their faces brushing as he whispered the words in Shane's ear.

"I know you were in my rooms." He had one arm around Shane's neck, the other hand running up through the man's thick hair, only a bit harsher than necessary. "But I know you were just checking up on me, right?"

He felt Shane give a distracted nod, the beard scratching his neck as he did so. "Right. Sure."

"Making sure I was safe."

"Of course."

Ryan gently kissed the man's cheek, gradually moving towards his mouth, hands caressing his neck, undoing his shirt. He tilted his chin up as he reached Shane's mouth, deciding to run the test, the test which determined whether or not the target actually _was_ effectively seduced. And Shane passed instantly. He pressed a hard kiss against Ryan's throat, running them down his neck, sitting forwards slightly, his breaths getting heavier as he pulled Ryan closer, teeth grazing his skin. Ryan sighed dreamily, fingers fumbling to finish undoing the other man's shirt, getting about halfway down when the hands suddenly grabbed his wrists. Hard. 

Ryan quickly twisted them loose, grabbing hold of Shane's in return, forcing the hands away, pinning them back against the couch either side of the taller man. Shane's fists were clenched as he tried to push back, but he quickly gave up, sighing heavily as he let himself relax. 

"Strong, aren't you?"

"You have no idea," replied Ryan, keeping his fingers tight around Shane's wrists, using his body to pin Shane's down, their bared skin hot against each other. "I'm a little disappointed, Shane. I thought we were getting somewhere there."

"The only place that was going to get me is in an unmarked grave in the middle of the desert." Shane raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Which I think you're aware of, by now."

"Hm? Never." Ryan felt the other man give a subtle struggle below him, their hips grinding, mouths still lingering centimeters apart as they looked at each other with equal amounts of disdain. "What do you think I am?"

"I don't know. Hence the reason I'm trying to find out." Shane's voice was just as quiet, low. Threatening. "Now get off me."

"I'm quite comfortable here." Ryan's grip tightened painfully on Shane's wrists as the taller man tried to free himself again. Ryan leaned forwards, whispering the words right against Shane's mouth. "If you ever come into my rooms again without telling me, I'll kill you."

Shane didn't respond to this for a long moment, his gaze lowered, watching Ryan's lips. "Just clarify something for me here. Are you trying to fuck me, or murder me?"

Ryan let himself smile, only a small one, a dry one. "They're not exclusive."

"You know, sometimes I get the feeling you've done this before." Shane watched the other man's face, closely. "Many times."

"I'm sorry you feel that way." Ryan pulled Shane's hands forwards, the taller man's body moving too, bumping against his. "What were you going to do? I saw your demon pet."

Shane clenched his fists, unclenched them, Ryan's neck tauntingly close. "I was going to kiss you goodnight, of course. Read you a bedtime story." The words were bitter; he wasn't exactly used to being manhandled. "Tuck you in."

"You're so funny, aren't you?" Ryan suddenly twisted one of Shane's arms behind his back, the taller man letting out a furious curse, his body pushing forwards against Ryan's. "Why did you have the fucking snake."

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Shane's teeth were gritted, the words scraping out edgeways. "Get your fucking hands off me."

"Unlike you, I don't have a pet to do my questioning for me." Ryan had to fight a bit to keep the man's other hand away from him now, feeling Shane struggle fiercely underneath him. "Why was Cal there."

"She was going to kill you, probably. I went in after her to get her back." Shane swallowed, his twisted arm trembling with the strain of the unnatural position it was forced into. "She holds grudges. I told you that."

"So you tried to save me, is that what you're saying?"

"I tried to save myself _by_ saving you," replied Shane, voice rough with anger. "Otherwise I would've gladly let her chew your-" He was cut off as his arm was twisted harder, kicking out, knocking the table sideways. "Fuck! Fuck you!"

"It's not so nice, is it?" Ryan could hear the loud voices of Horsley, and more especially Banjo, coming down the hallway. "Doesn't feel very good, right?"

Shane didn't get the chance to reply before the door opened, Ryan stepping back off him, a sigh of relief escaping his mouth as his arm was finally freed. Ryan's fingermarks were still visible around his wrists, white. He held his arm moodily, not returning the greeting as Banjo and Horsley finally re-entered the room, already with cigarettes in their mouths, glasses still in hand. Ryan sat back down beside him, as casual as if he'd always belonged, picking his drink back up. Shane got to his feet, heart still racing, with a feeling he wasn't quite familiar with. Fear. He glanced down at Ryan, who raised his drink to him in a mocking depiction of friendship. _Bastard. You beautiful bastard_. 

Shane excused himself, storming out into the hallway, striding down the hallway as he buttoned his shirt back up. He could see a man wheeling a trolley towards Norris' rooms, dressed in the staff's uniform.

"Hey." Shane passed the elevator, glare fixed on the other man, who had frozen at the voice. "Hey, we don't do service up on this floor. You should know that-" He glanced at the name-badge. "-Steven."

"Oh, I wasn't told," replied the other man, eyes wide, alarmed. "I- Sorry. Sir."

Shane didn't move to let him past, hands on his hips. His arm still hurt, complaining with the movement. "Who are you?"

Steven glanced up at the openly-suspicious tone. "Uh, new waiter. Sir."

"Stop calling me that." Shane looked him up and down, eyes narrowed. "I didn't hire any new waiters."

"It was someone else."

"Who."

"I can't remember. They just-"

"You can't remember who hired you?"

The man was paling, face beginning to grow sweaty. "I- I-"

"Isn't it time for you to go to bed?" 

Shane turned at the voice, fists already clenching. "Excuse me?"

Ryan slipped past him, pausing beside the new waiter, who appeared all too relieved. "I called for room service. You have something to say about that?"

Shane inclined his head slightly at his tone, like a vicious dog being told to 'sit' for the first time. "You know we don't-"

"I know I can do what I want," replied Ryan with a shrug, enjoying the blank fury on the taller man's face. "Anything else?"

Shane stared at him in silence for a long moment. "Yeah. There is." He reached around the shorter man as if to slap his ass, his hand landing on the gun he had felt tucked into the back of Ryan's belt. "No guns."

Ryan's eyes widened. "You can't-"

"Get out of here," said Shane to the waiter, a dismissive sentence thrown sideways at the shorter man. "And don't let me catch you up here again. Alright?"

Ryan didn't know which to address first; Shane taking the gun from him, or Steven being sent slinking away with his tail between his legs. "You can't just- I didn't-"

"Enough blabbering, bitch." Shane emptied the cartridge from the gun, emptying the bullets all over the floor. They clinked loudly against the marble. "And since there's no service up here, I guess you can get on your knees and clean these up yourself."

Ryan's shoulders rose with each breath, his furious gaze fixed on the taller man. "You son of a bitch."

Shane slipped the empty gun into his own belt, a not-quite-genuine smile on his face. "You're hot when you're angry, Ryan. I'll admit that."

"You know what was hot? How you caved instantly the second you were in the tiniest bit of pain." Ryan returned the flat smile. "Ironic, isn't it?"

Shane took a step forwards, Ryan taking one back, their eyes locked. "You're getting a bit mouthy, little guy. And I really, _really_ don't like it."

"I don't care." He shrugged, turning away, heading back towards his rooms. "You liked it earlier, anyway."

Ryan pushed his door open, a few meters down the hall. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt, before simply pulling it off over his head, slow, seductive. Shane took an involuntary step forwards, stopping himself, fists clenched by his sides. He wanted to follow. He'd had a taste, the tiniest taste of that forbidden body, and now he wanted to devour the whole dish. Ryan turned away with a knowing smile, vanishing into the darkness of the room, the door closing over behind him. Not all the way. There was still a gap of darkness, a tantalizing, delicious opportunity. Shane realized he'd been holding his breath, clenching his teeth. He let himself breathe again, eyes closing, shoulders slumping. He was familiar with many forms of torture, but this wasn't one of them. And it was probably one of the worst. 

He forced himself to turn away, to head back to Horsley's room. And he drank hard, and fast, and long.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song Banjo's playing: https://youtu.be/6ZYigVU6yco  
> song Horsley plays: https://youtu.be/m3gS4sAHWOs
> 
> i know i always give links to songs i use but they're a massive inspiration for scenes/entire plots sometimes so i feel bad not crediting them


	5. Scorched Earth Policy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You said 'I do' to the wrong side_  
>  _Fucked me up and then you play nice_  
>  _You’ve got to know I burned your letter_  
>  _Worse for the better_  
>  _You made me fall_  
>  _I’ll make you crawl_  
>  _You’ve made your bed now lie in it."_  
>  \- 'The Devil You Know' by Kovacs

Ryan didn't go to bed. He didn't go to sleep at all. He listened at the slightly-open door, waiting to hear if Shane would come or go. There was silence for a long moment. Then the man's footsteps receded down the hallway at a brisk pace, past the elevator. To Horsley's. _Perfect_.

He shrugged his shirt back on, heading out onto the balcony, the breeze light and warm. The town's lights twinkled below, further down the hill. The hotel was a bit isolated from the town, both regarding its position and its people. Ryan moved to the railing, stepping over it, refusing to look down. It was a long fall from the tenth floor, and no matter how many times he'd done it, he always found it nerve-wracking. He kept one hand on his railing, reaching behind him for the balcony next to him. He closed the small jump, taking a moment to breathe. This was always the scariest part. He let his hands slip down the iron railings, his legs peddling in the empty space below, reaching for the balcony under him. No surprise, he couldn't reach. He bet Shane could reach. Jerk.

He let go. The drop wasn't that far, but it hurt nonetheless. His arms hooked over the railing, chin hitting off it upon impact, making him curse. Then he hauled himself over. No time to take a breath now; he wouldn't know when Shane might get back. Maybe Shane wouldn't get back, which was what he was hoping for. But hope was a dangerous thing to have in his line of work. The table and chair beside him were where they always were, the ashtray sporting a few cigarette stubs. He slid open the balcony door quietly. He hadn't expected it to be locked; what do the rich really fear when it comes to being robbed? Ryan left the door open, stepping into the dark room. He immediately went for the lights across the way, turning them on, keeping them low. 

The tank sat where it always sat. Ryan crossed to it, peering in, breath shaking. _Please be there. Please be there_. And perhaps proving there was indeed a God, she was there. Cal poked her white head out between the dark leaves, and if a snake could do a double-take, this was it. Ryan straightened up instantly, hands on his hips as he let out the breath he had been holding. Cal was in her own little room, which meant Ryan could do what he came to do with no fear; search.

He had to kill whoever Norris was dealing with. He knew that much. But he wanted to find out who this was, what they did. So he went to the nearest set of drawers, against the wall, under the long mirror there. He pulled open the top drawer. _Holy fuck, Madej. Ever heard of filing?_ The papers were a mess, but they also all looked old. He closed the drawer, moving to the next one. The same. He saw Tinsley's name a few times, especially in a muddled folder labelled 'clients?'. Ryan closed the drawer again. He could see Cal in the mirror, reared back like a cobra without her hood, watching this intruder rummage through her owner's home. The ridges above her eyes made her look like she was glaring. Maybe she was. Ryan quickly looked away. 

He moved into the bedroom, turning on the lights. They were already low. Shirts were strewn across the desk, the accompanying chair. An ashtray was on the locker beside the bed, a few empty glasses, a book or four or five. 

"You don't have maids on this floor either, I guess," muttered Ryan, standing in the doorway, hands on his hips. "Do you even use your wardrobe?"

Yes, he did. But not for clothes. There was nothing but illegal objects; a few handguns, a sniper rifle, which had Ryan's immediate attention. It was a nice one, a very expensive one. He saw a knife sticking out from a cubby, taking it out, examining it. It was short, easily hidden, but sharp. Recently sharpened, in fact. Ryan frowned. Every day revealed a way in which Shane was the worst man in the world. He put the knife back, wondering if he'd ever feel it pierce his skin. He had a feeling he would. 

He went to the bedside locker, pulling open the top drawer. Now, this looked more organized. Neat. New. He opened up the top file, flicking through the lists of names. But what were the names? Employees? Clients? Allies? Enemies? All four? Ryan threw the file back into the draw with just a bit of attitude, sighing. When hiding confidential files, people tended to stick them under mattresses, behind walls, in bookcases. Shane simply didn't label things. It was more effective, really. And twice as infuriating. 

"C'mon," he muttered to himself, glancing around the room, at the second balcony, through the thin curtain. "Give me something here."

He sat on the bed, thinking, thinking hard. But he found himself drifting, thinking about how he was sitting where Shane slept, where this frightening, intimidating, and borderline evil man simply put his head down and drifted away to dreamland like everyone else in the world. Except on much fancier bedding. Ryan took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. If only Shane and Norris had each other's positions. If only Shane was the one Ryan was _meant_ to seduce, and Norris was the one he didn't. He liked danger. He loved it. And Shane was the most dangerous thing he'd ever encountered. Norris was beautiful, physically attractive, but there was nothing there. They both knew there was nothing there. There didn't need to be anything there. But with Shane, there was an undeniable fire, just waiting to engulf them both. And each time Ryan teased him, or taunted him, he knew he was doing the same things to himself. _Why did you have to be here, in this country, in this hotel, at this time?_ Because destiny is a bitch. That's why.

Ryan rifled through every possible drawer. Names everywhere, in all languages, from all countries, some reoccurring, some ominously crossed off. But not a single useful label. He paused by Cal's tank again. She was still watching him, tongue flickering out as she pressed against the glass. Ryan leaned down to look at her, still remembering what it felt like to have those dry scales against his skin. She suddenly turned her head, slithering over to the corner of her tank, nearest the door to the room, like a puppy hearing its owner pull up in the driveway. Ryan froze, eyes wide. _Fuck_. 

The balcony was across the room. He wasn't going to make it, there was no way he'd cross the room on time. He could hear the footsteps grow closer, a bit sloppy. Drunk, the guy had to be drunk, which was the biggest blessing Ryan could've hoped for. Hiding from someone is a lot easier when that someone couldn't even see themselves, let alone anyone else. Ryan slipped behind the door of the bedroom, his eyes landing on the second balcony. He could do it. He'd just have to be quiet.

"Honey, I'm home!"

The door to the apartment slammed open, and in came Shane, clearly very much wasted. Ryan could see him through the gap in the door, see him stretch leisurely, running a hand through his messy hair, stumbling slightly as he did so. How did someone get that drunk in an hour and a half? He continued watching as Shane reached right into the tank, scooping Cal up, holding her up to the light like a jewel. 

"You're so pretty," he mumbled, petting her head. "So shiny."

He placed a cigarette in his mouth, unbuttoning his shirt, only stopping once Cal positioned herself around his neck, under the shirt collar, like an antisocial teen refusing to leave its room. 

"Fine. Fine, I'll just leave it on."

The snake continued hissing, its beady eyes fixed on Ryan's, even through the gap in the door. It knew. It knew, and if a snake could snitch, Ryan knew this one would.

"Shut up," muttered Shane, frowning as Cal gave his face an urgent jab again. "Shh."

Ryan watched this bizarre interaction, wondering how a man so morally black could have an animal trust him so much, so loyally. And a snake? Did snakes even have feelings? Shane moved out of view, the sound of a lighter sparking, Shane humming merrily. Ryan turned away, crossing the bedroom, slowly pushing open the balcony door. That had been surprisingly easy. Shane wouldn't even know he'd been there. Ryan stepped out onto the balcony, glancing around for a way to escape without having to cross Shane's other balcony. And their eyes met instantly.

Shane stood on the first balcony, his cigarette falling from his mouth as he stared at him, sparks flying as it hit the ground. Ryan stared back, his heart in his throat. All they could see of each other were silhouettes outlined by the dim light from inside.  _He was lighting a cigarette, you idiot! Where did you think he was going to smoke it?!_ But Ryan didn't quite get to finish mentally scolding himself before his flight instinct kicked in.

Shane scrambled for the gun he'd taken from Ryan, flinging it back inside when he realized it was empty. Ryan propelled himself off the railing of the balcony, catching hold of the one above Shane's, swinging forwards, drop-kicking the taller man in the chest hard enough to send him flying backwards, hitting the rail hard, teetering dangerously. Cal slipped from around his neck with an alarmed hiss.

"NO!" Shane twisted, his hand catching her, her tail wrapping around his fingers in response. His other hand grabbed hold of the rail to stop himself from following his pet over. "Ryan! Ryan, you son of a bitch!"

He saw Ryan's peddling legs disappear upwards as the man hauled himself onto the balcony above. He glanced up between the gap to follow Ryan's path, seeing him throw himself from the balcony above to his own, everything just a bit blurry. Fuck, he was too drunk for this. But Cal wasn't. He let her go, watching her slither furiously over the railings, up the wall, right towards Ryan's rooms. Then he hurried back inside, straight out the door, not checking to see if it had closed behind him. He didn't care. What he cared about was choking the life out of Ryan fucking Bergara with his bare hands. 

He flew up the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator. His shirt flew back either side of him like a makeshift cape. His hand shook with anger as he shoved the master key into the lock of Ryan's rooms, teeth gritted, breathing heavily. He shouldered the door open, stumbling to a halt inside. He frowned in complete bafflement.

"...Goldsworth?"

It was indeed Ricky Goldsworth. He sat on the couch nearest the balcony, which had its doors shut, the curtains still floating a tiny bit in the breeze that had only just been cut off. The waiter who had been told not to come to this floor anymore was also there, serving. Goldsworth raised his glass.

"Shane, you tool. You're joining us?"

Shane blinked, head tilted slightly. "Joining you."

"Well, Holly and Banjo have basically passed out," snorted the man, kicking a foot up on the table in front of him. "Ryan's just out of the shower, I think. We're gonna have a nightcap or two."

Shane shook his head slightly, eyes closed. "I don't- I thought you were- Where is he? Where's Ryan?"

"Someone talking about me?" Ryan stepped into the room, towel-drying his hair with the nonchalance of someone who _had_ just gotten out of the shower. Instead of just shoved their head under the sink for a minute. "Oh, Shane. Hi."

Shane watched him suspiciously, still breathing heavily from his dash up the stairs. Ryan's eyes widened with that infuriating naivety he could call to hand at any time. Shane didn't speak. He couldn't. The other man wore nothing but a towel around his narrow waist, riding dangerously low, a decision made definitely-maybe on purpose. The taller man kept his eyes on Ryan as the shorter man took a drink off the waiter, headed over to Shane, offered it to him. Shane shook his head, eyes still fixed on Ryan's, narrowed evilly. 

"Are you okay?" asked Ryan, an eyebrow raised. "You seem a bit... off."

 _Off_. Shane looked at the other two, one standing, one sitting, all watching him. "...I had a bit too much to drink."

"Oh. Pity." Ryan moved a bit closer, their bodies almost touching. The glass of alcohol still hovered between them. "I wish I was on the same level. So much could happen."

Shane wanted to take the glass, and shatter it, and rub the shards into the other man's pretty little face. "Fuck you."

The words were out before he even knew it. Ryan raised his eyebrows. Goldsworth let out a sharp laugh. The waiter simply averted his gaze. Shane swallowed, looking back to Ryan, who was already turning away.

"You could just say 'no thanks', but alright," said Ryan, shrugging his shoulders. He placed the glass aside, well aware of how Shane's eyes were watching his every move, every shift of every muscle. "Well, you can't stay. Sorry if that ruins any plans."

Shane's heart was thundering in his chest as Ryan came back to him, began buttoning up his shirt. The shorter man's fingers grazed his skin. "You were- I saw you. Five minutes ago."

Goldsworth piped up from the few feet away. "But you just arrived."

"Yeah, that doesn't make sense." Ryan let his hand slide onto the taller man's bare chest, let it move up, fingers slipping around Shane's neck. "You're just drunk. That's all." His thumb brushed his stubbled cheek. "You can stay here for the night. If you want."

He wanted. Shane definitely, without a doubt, wanted. He closed his eyes at the feeling of Ryan's fingers tracing back down his neck, down his chest. His arms physically hurt from the effort of keeping his hands to himself. "I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

There was a flicker of genuine surprise in the shorter man's eyes, before Ryan quickly covered it, dropping his hands with just a bit of hesitation. "Goodnight, then."

"...Yeah." Shane gave them all one last long look, a frown still on his face. They all looked back at him, eyebrows raised innocently. "Goodnight."

* * *

Ryan finally let himself breathe once Shane left. He collapsed onto the couch with a heavy sigh, eyes closed, burying his face in his hands. Goldsworth was still sniggering away, on his feet now, sauntering back and forth like it was his rooms, and not Ryan's. Steven looked pale, eyes wide.

"-and you went straight down into his rooms?" Goldsworth laughed heartily, drink swilling around his glass. "Jesus, you're a lot braver than I gave you credit for. Y'know, when I first saw you, I thought 'nah, no way, that can't be him', but lo and behold, you proved me fucking wrong."

Ryan took a deep breath, eyes still closed. "Why'd you never warn me?"

"Hm?"

"About him." Ryan nodded towards the door. "About the crazy sadistic sidekick of Norris that I'd never heard of before."

Goldsworth shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't know if you were the guy Tinsley sent."

Ryan spread his arms. "How many of us are there? I thought it was just me and Steven."

"Oh, no, I don't work for Tinsley. My mom just owes him a massive favor, and this is it." Goldsworth shrugged again, coming to a slow halt. "Look, I've been spying on Norris for years, and Shane's never noticed. He's not as all-powerful as he first seems."

"Well do you know who Norris is currently selling to?" asked Ryan, eyebrows raised hopefully. "I have to kill them, and I just like to know who I'm supposed to be looking out for."

"So you're a hitman?"

Ryan paused. "Well, yeah. I guess."

"Right. Well, it's a guy called Carlos Oliveira." Goldsworth took a sip of his drink, sitting back on the couch. "This super-rich priest in Italy. And I'll just say, you don't get rich by just being a priest." He nodded at Ryan's surprise. "Yeah, he deals arms on the side."

"Fuck off. No way."

"Yeah way."

Steven finally piped up, voice a bit nervous. "Look, guys, Shane saw me. He told me not to come up here anymore."

"Yeah, but just tell him I sent for you." Ryan shrugged, sitting back on the couch, an arm resting across the back. "He can't say shit to me, really."

Goldsworth laughed again. He laughed a lot. It was a nasty sound. "Yeah, he can't. And you've got him wrapped around your fucking finger, don't you?"

Ryan raised his eyes as he thought. "Well, not really. He hates my guts. Have you _seen_ the way he looks at me?"

"Shane looks like that at anyone he finds suspicious. But you're the only one who's passed the twenty-four hour mark, man."

Steven sat on the armchair, still looking very much uncomfortable. "He looks at me like that."

"You're fine." Ryan finally picked up his drink off the table, giving him a reassuring smile. "Trust me."

* * *

The dark night led to a bright morning. Not that this could be seen from the elevator. Shane looked at himself in the mirrors that made up for walls; hungover wasn't the word. His head pounded, there were dark circles under his eyes, he hadn't touched his hair after dragging himself out of bed. His shirt was rumpled, but at least Cal straightened out his collar a bit.

"Fuck my life," he muttered, rubbing a weary hand down his face. "God damnit, Banjo."

He remembered bits of the night. Episodes. A flash of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and Ryan standing on his balcony. He vaguely remembered talking to Goldsworth, and seeing Ryan, standing tantalizingly close, dark eyes fixed on Shane's. It didn't add up. But he was about to put two and two together, rather forcefully.

The doors slid open, and he was relieved at the darkness of the basement in front of him. The elevator lights had been hurting his head. The doors slid shut behind him as he stalked into the room, heading right for the chair in the center. And on that chair sat a waiter with answers.

"Rough night?" asked Sara from the side, not looking up from her nails.

"Tell me about it." Shane came to a halt in front of the chair, leaning in, squinting at the name badge. "Lim, isn't it? Steven Lim."

The man nodded, silent. His eyes were glued to the snake. They always were.

"I have just a few questions. About last night." Shane wandered around the chair as he spoke, placing a gentle hand on the man's shoulder. Cal took the hint, sliding down his arm and onto Steven. "If you wouldn't mind answering them."

The reply was a squeak. "Yes."

"Mm. Try not to squeak like that." Shane appeared in front of him again, an eyebrow raised. "She likes mice."

He pulled up a chair, sitting across it, folding his arms on the back. "You were with Ryan Bergara last night. Right?"

Steven closed his eyes as the scales crept across his neck. "Right."

"The whole night?"

A pause. "After Mister Bergara returned from Horsley's rooms. Yes."

Shane watched Cal's reaction, keeping his face blank. "Did Ryan leave your presence at all?"

The waiter's eyebrows flickered slightly. "No."

Shane nodded slowly, his chin resting on his hand. "Alright. And when did he return to his rooms?"

Steven opened his eyes. "I said he didn't leave, though."

"Yeah. But that was a lie."

A low hiss, like gas escaping a pipe. Cal had reared back. Shane sighed heavily, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Look, did Ryan break into my rooms last night?" demanded Shane, waving a hand at him impatiently. "I'm hungover as fuck, and I want to know if the little bastard was in my rooms. That's all. Because I can't fucking remember."

Steven shook his head, just a bit. He didn't want to agitate the snake, after all. "Not that I'm aware of."

"That's not an answer, man." Shane glared at him. "Yes or no. C'mon. Hurry up."

"I- No, no, he didn't." Steven swallowed hard, hearing the hiss grow stronger. He gripped the edges of the chair. "It's hissing. It's hissing at me."

"You're lying. Again." Shane got to his feet, shoving the chair aside, hard enough for it to tip over. The waiter flinched at the sound. "Why are you lying? Who are you?"

"I- I got hired!" Steven's eyes were wide with terror, the snake lingering just in his view. "I-"

"Who hired you?" demanded Shane, hands on his hips. "C'mon. Answers. Quick."

"I can't remember! I-"

"Stop lying to me!" shouted Shane, furious at both his hangover and the lies. "Tell me why you're lying about Ryan Bergara being in my rooms last night!"

"It's gonna bite me!" Steven got to his feet, his voice on the verge of cracking. "Get it off!"

"She won't bite if you tell me the truth." His voice was decievingly soft, an eyebrow arched. He heard the elevator doors slide open behind him. "So tell me; who are you, and who is Ryan."

Steven had gone silent, eyes fixed on someone behind him. "Shit."

Shane turned, a glare already on his face. Which was quite literally knocked off. Ryan didn't hesitate in punching him hard across the face, sending the taller man stumbling to the floor, landing flat on his back with a curse. Cal hissed furiously, just about audible over Sara's 'hey, what the fuck?!' Shane was already back on his feet, closing the space between them, ignoring the harsh pain in his jaw. Ryan didn't step away, raising his fists, readying himself. 

"Ryan!"

The shout was a warning, which didn't hit Ryan half as fast as Cal did. Her fangs sank into his upper arm, her body dangling as she held on. He cried out, trying to grab her, Shane's hand grabbing a fistful of Ryan's hair, pulling him forwards hard enough to simply fling him to the ground. 

"I'm calling Horsley," muttered Sara, striding away to the elevator. "This is bullshit."

Ryan managed to tear Cal from his arm, sending her flying across the room for the second time in forty-eight hours. Then Shane had him by the collar of his shirt, hauling him halfway off the concrete, their faces inches apart. Ryan brought his legs up, one hooked around Shane's side, the other over the man's shoulder. He pushed away, rolling backwards, hauling Shane over with him, efficiently flipping their positions. Ryan straddled his chest, one foot on Shane's wrist, the other knee on his other elbow. He took the moment to check his arm, the blood soaking through his shirt. The area around the bite burned painfully.

"What the fuck are you?" demanded Shane, breathing heavily, feeling like he was about to vomit. Being forced into a tumble while hungover was not a nice sensation. "You're a rat. You're a goddamn rat."

Ryan threw him an irritated glare before going back to his arm, pulling the sleeve up. Blood was leaking out of one of the fang marks. The other wasn't.

"Steven, go back upstairs," he said, closing his eyes as he readied himself to pull the broken fang out. "And get out."

Shane kept his eyes fixed on Ryan's face, hearing the waiter positively flee the scene. "You broke one of her fucking teeth."

"She broke her own goddamn tooth," replied Ryan fiercely, finally pulling the fang out. He examined it, seeing Shane checking it out too.

"Where is she?" demanded Shane, raising his head, trying to see the pale body anywhere. "Just tell me if she's okay."

"Are you serious?" Ryan chucked the fang aside, glaring down at the man. "I hope your evil shoelace is dead."

"You better hope she's not." Shane let his head rest back against the floor, looking down his nose at the other man. "Your time's running out, little guy. Starting right now." 

Ryan took his eyes from the bite, leaning forwards, a hand on the cold concrete beside Shane's head. "Your pet bit me. Norris won't like that."

"Oh no, her little whore got hurt." Shane saw the other man's jaw clench at the insult, lip curled with contempt. "She'll just find a new one. There's literally streets filled with guys like you."

"There's no one out there like me. But don't worry." Ryan gave him a dry smile. "I'm all yours."

Shane fought the urge to spit at him, fists clenched as he tried to free his arms. "Oh, is that so?"

"Mm."

"Well why don't I tell you what I'd do with you then." Shane spoke through gritted teeth, eyes narrowed. "First, I'd take out every last one of your perfect teeth. Then I'd put knives through your fucking eyes." He paused, giving a snarky laugh. "Actually, no. First, I'd fuck you stupid."

Ryan raised an eyebrow at this. "Ah. Would you."

"You know I would." Shane was still smiling, a bitter half-smile. "And I know you would."

"You don't know what I'd do." Ryan brought his face closer, their eyes locked. "You don't know what I want."

Shane could feel the other man's breath on his mouth, a cruel ghost. "I know what you need."

"And what's that." Ryan's voice was low, just for the two of them to hear. "What do you think I need."

Shane felt the other man's nose slip past his, felt the hand rest on the side of his face. He swallowed, closing his eyes as Ryan's lips brushed his. "I can't tell you. I can only show you."

Ryan pressed a soft kiss against the side of the other man's neck, and another, feeling Shane's body relax under him, then tense again almost instantly. "You know, it doesn't usually take this long to seduce someone." He let his lips come together against the man's jaw, let his tongue just brush his skin. "It's pretty annoying."

"Mm." Shane kept his head turned aside, eyes closed, biting on his lip. The kisses were heavenly. "Fuck. And I thought I knew torture."

Ryan's hand slipped under his chin, turned his head back to face him. He was going to reply. They were both going to say something. But their lips grazed against each other again, and they were too close, it was too much. Ryan opened his mouth, let Shane in, their tongues brushing. He pushed forwards, pushing Shane's head back, their mouths working together, hot and heavy and desperate. Shane's arms finally slipped free, his hands finding their way around Ryan's neck, drawing him in, their bodies flush together. Their low moans were simultaneous, Shane letting out a harsh sigh as Ryan's teeth closed on his bottom lip, sending a shock through his entire body. He felt Ryan's hands take hold of his wrists, pushing them to the cold floor, holding them in place. But unlike last time, he didn't mind. His heart skipped a beat as Ryan began rocking his hips hard, grinding into him, their mouths still glued together. 

Ryan glanced up to check the elevator, seeing it was on its way down. He sat back, hearing the frustrated sigh from Shane as the taller man attempted to follow, attempted to keep that sweet mouth on his. 

"I don't want us to fight, Shane," he said quietly, still grinding his hips slowly. He brought Shane's hands up to rest on his body, on his waist, feeling the fingers digging into him. "I just want you to keep me happy. Until Norris gets home."

Shane sat upright, his gaze still fixed on Ryan's lips, his pulse racing as the shorter man continued moving his hips smoothly, expertly. He could feel the muscles working under his hands. "Why- Why were you - _fuck_ \- Why were you in my rooms?"

"I wanted you," whispered Ryan against his mouth, running a hand through Shane's hair, feeling the hands move from his waist to behind his thighs, pulling him forwards, fixing him more firmly around Shane's hips. "I wanted you so much I couldn't stand it."

Shane moved forwards to kiss him again, to taste him, to feel him in his mouth. But Ryan held him away with the flat of his hand, shaking his head. The shorter man climbed off him, dusted himself off, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. And that was the scene Horsley and Sara saw when the doors slid open; Ryan standing with his arms folded, and Shane on the floor, looking up at him like he was a man on his deathbed and Ryan was heaven itself.


	6. Loose Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Death is always true. You haven’t known a true thing in all your life. You think you know death, but you don’t. You didn’t recognize him sittin’ across from you this whole time.“ - Westworld_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lil' nsfw
> 
> also v sorry for the late upload. shit's wack in my life rn. i got a new job and i got a bf?? in one week? wack

The sheets were damp against his back, twisting as he writhed against them, his back arching off the bed, then dropping back, then arching again twice as fiercely, accompanied by a jarring moan. His fingers were tangling in Shane’s damp hair, down at his waist, where Shane’s face was buried between his legs. And he was good. He was  _good_. Ryan turned his head aside sharply with a harsh exhale as his body involuntarily bucked again, his hips struggling to respond to the overwhelming pleasure being caused to him.

“Ah- Ah-  _AH_ -!” Ryan hit his head back against the pillow as Shane had him edging yet again, his legs hooked over the taller man’s arms, Shane’s fingers digging hard into his thighs. “Fuck! Oh  _God_ , fuck me, oh fuck, I- I-”

He sighed almost with relief as Shane took his mouth off him, moving up his body, kiss by kiss by kiss, pushing the open shirt aside as he did so. He could feel Ryan’s stomach hard and damp under his lips, stiffening with each heavy breath. Shane ran his tongue up Ryan’s chest, tasting the sweat, stopping at his neck, where he placed his mouth back against the hot skin. Ryan wrapped an arm tightly around Shane’s neck, eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of Shane’s mouth working against his throat. He let out a dreamy sigh, turning his head aside for easier access, his fingers running up through Shane’s thick, messy hair.  _Fuck you. Fuck you for being so fucking good at this_. His other hand dragged down Shane’s back, slow and hard. Shane’s shirt was damp under his fingers, stuck to the shifting muscles of his back.  _Fuck_.

Shane broke off, moving his face to Ryan’s, smiling crookedly. “Who’s better?”

Ryan opened his eyes, still breathing heavily. “What?”

“Who’s better at fucking you? Me or Norris?”

Ryan gave a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “You. Holy fuck, you.”

Shane grinned, slipping his fingers through Ryan’s, pinning his hands down against the bed either side of him. “Mm. Pity.”

“You have no idea,” replied Ryan with a breathless laugh, Shane’s mouth centimeters from his. “You ever considered being a concubine?”

Shane laughed. “You want me to be your mistress, do you?”

“I want to be able to not go insane every time I’m with Fran,” he replied quietly, feeling the other man’s breath hot against his mouth. “Knowing what I’m really missing out on.”

Shane raised an eyebrow. “Is she bad?”

“No. No, definitely not.” Ryan sat upright, lazily flipping them as he spoke. “But she’s not you. I’ll just say that.”

Shane took hold of the wooden poles of the headboard as Ryan undid his belt, unbuttoned his trousers, settled onto him. He let out a low moan as Ryan began rocking his hips, pushing his head back into the pillow, feeling the shorter man’s hands pulling open his shirt, planting themselves on his chest for balance.

“And she doesn’t sound half as hot,” said Ryan quietly, Shane letting out another rough moan as he spoke, grip on the headboard tightening. “When I’m fucking her.”

“Fuck,” breathed Shane, eyes still squeezed shut, his shirt sticking to him with the sweat. He could feel Ryan’s hand slip around his throat, the other gripping the headboard as he rode him hard. His own grip tightened on Ryan’s rocking hips. “Fuck me.  _Christ_.”

It had only been a day since the fight in the basement - the fight and the ensuing kiss - and they'd barely been able to stay away from each other since. And Shane knew that Ryan thought he had the upper hand in the situation. But really, Ryan wasn't the only one who could act. Shane was playing him, and playing him hard, although he hadn't been sure if he'd be able to keep it up. He had actually hesitated the night before, when he'd given in first and went up to Ryan's rooms. Shane had stepped into the dark room, closed the door behind him, let his hand slip off the handle, finger by finger. His body subtly telling him to leave, to leave now, not to risk it. It was too unpredictable; would he be able to play Ryan at his own game, or would he lose control instantly? But then Ryan was on him, and all other thoughts were meaningless. Their mouths met, opening, tongues sliding against each other, their heavy breaths echoing each other. Shane let his eyes flutter closed, hands running free over the other man, their mouths still glued together, and nothing had tasted so sweet. Ryan kissed him with a heated passion, so fiery it was almost unbearable, barely pausing as Shane picked him up, hands under his thighs.

"Not the sofa," whispered Ryan, settled firm around the taller man's hips. "She'll notice."

Shane had ignored the quick flurry of dread in his stomach at the mention of Norris. It was quite easy to ignore, seeing as there was a blizzard of desire occurring at the same time. Ryan's mouth was back on his, unrelenting, their low moans simultaneous. As they were now. Shane sat upright, Ryan still straddling him, feeling the taller man's mouth running hungry kisses down his stomach as he pulled his shirt completely off. He sat back for a moment, letting a hand tangle in Shane's hair, breathing heavily as the taller man's teeth and tongue left his body hot and wet.

"Fuck." The word was breathed, a sigh. " _Fuck_."

Shane let himself be pushed flat on the bed, Ryan lowering himself against him, their mouths working against each other, bodies locked together. Ryan slipped his fingers through Shane's, taking them off his hips, pinning them to the bed either side of the other man's head. Shane's darkened features looked back, his eyes glittering in the dark.

"You love calling me a whore, right?" said Ryan through his panted breaths, leaning down as he rocked his hips. Shane let out a low sigh. "Probably makes you feel good. Makes you feel powerful or something."

"No," replied Shane simply. "Norris just usually brings back prostitutes."

"And I struck you as one, did I?"

Shane closed his eyes as the hips continued grinding into him, making him grit his teeth to keep his moan contained. "You gave me reason." A pause as he fought to stay silent, eyes squeezed shut as he allowed a few rapid breaths, chest rising and falling hard. "...Sometimes."

"Good." Ryan brought his face close to the other man's, feeling the shaky breaths against his mouth. "Because I'm gonna fuck you like you're paying me."

So he did. And Horsley left her rooms and decided to venture downstairs to Banjo's, as the sounds from further up the corridor were just a bit too much for her liking. 

"Like goddamn animals, Bernard," she said disdainfully, her wine in hand, cigarette in the other. "How am I supposed to sleep up there? Can't even sleep in my own bloody rooms."

Banjo laughed heartily. "Well, they'll both be dead when Norris finds out. She'll hang them both from her balcony for the whole world to see." He took a sip of his whiskey. "Heard anymore about that hitman guy?"

"Oh, supposedly Tinsley's trying to screw us over again. Like he does every time there's a new buyer." She rolled her eyes. "We'll all be safe. But Norris won't."

"You tell Shane yet? He'll have to keep an eye on that."

"Mm. I'll tell him at the party." She raised her glass back to her lips. "I'd say that's when the hitman will try and slip into the building, too. Tinsley's 'professionals' are never quite so, are they?"

And on the floor above, Shane sat in the bed and lit a cigarette, and waited for Ryan to fall into a deep, deep sleep. Then he'd do two things; he'd make sure the bite from Cal on Ryan's arm was healing properly, so that Norris wouldn't find out, and then he'd search. He'd search for anything that could give him even the tiniest insight into what Ryan was. He was some sort of spy, or informant, but that was as far as Shane could get. A spy from where? Who knew. And who was he spying on? All of them? One of them? The lack of knowing was beginning to get on his nerves. He'd found a silencer under the bed the night before, and a small blade in the bedside locker, both of which only confirmed his suspicions of Ryan being an enemy. That, and how he was perfectly able to handle himself in a fight. What a punch that had been; the side of Shane's mouth still hurt. 

He wandered through the kitchen, the sitting room, absent-mindedly buttoning his shirt, feeling the damp fabric cooling against his skin. _Norris, you bitch. Look what you've got. You've got all this, and you've got him, but you still want more_. He took the cigarette from his mouth, checking a few drawers for fake bottoms, hidden compartments. Nothing. He tutted quietly, straightening back up.

"What are you looking for?"

Shane smoothly turned, seeing Ryan standing bare chested in the darkness of the bedroom doorway, doing up his belt. "Looking for coffee."

"You can make coffee in the luxury of your own rooms," said Ryan, stepping into the room, giving his jaw a distracted scratch. "With your literal spaghetti monster."

"Aw, you don't like her anymore," said Shane mockingly, head tilted slightly. "Well she doesn't like you either."

"Mm." Ryan slipped a hand around the taller man's waist, letting his fingers dig in, dragging slightly. "And you're worse than she is."

"You're pretty poisonous yourself, Bergara." Shane lightly cupped the shorter man's face, feeling the stubble scratching his hands. He wondered if he could do it right then. Drop his hands a bit lower, overpower the guy, choke the life out of him. "But as long as you don't break one of _my_ teeth, I'll let you stick around."

"Your generosity is too much." Ryan could see the glint in Shane's eyes, the mad shine that meant he was thinking some dark thoughts. But he knew that all he'd have to do is lean forwards, and press a kiss to the man's chest, and he'd be putty in his hands. "Now I'll see you later."

Shane studied his face closely for a long moment, unable to quite make it out in the darkness. He raised a hand, slipping a finger under the shorter man's chin, tilting his head back. It was a move that would generally be considered affectionate, but it made Ryan feel on edge. Threatened. He held the taller man's gaze, the glint of his eyes. His hand smelled like cigarette smoke. Shane raised said cigarette with his other hand, placing it back in his mouth. Ryan took the hand from under his chin, not quite liking the proximity to his throat. Instead, he slipped one of the fingers into his mouth, seeing the smoke go right back between the other man's lips as he inhaled deeply at the sight, the sensation. _If only you knew_ , thought Shane to himself, as he chucked the cigarette aside, drawing the shorter man into a hard kiss. _If only you knew now what you're going to find out soon._

* * *

It had been a day since the fight in the basement. Twenty-four hours, from the evening before to the evening now. And for Shane, this had been a very busy twenty-four hours indeed. But it was the sort of busy that he thrived on. Half of it had been spent keeping Ryan... occupied. The other had been spent trying to track down the mysterious waiter, Steven. Ryan had seemed to think that Shane had forgotten about the guy. On the contrary. Shane had tapped into his web of influence around the town, and had _found_ the guy. And not only had he found the guy, but he'd had him killed. Disposed of. The loose end tied up. It wouldn't be long until Ryan found out. And when he did find out, what exactly could he do? Grieve and cry and make it glaringly obvious that he knew the man, or keep it hidden? He'd have to keep it hidden. Or try, at least. Shane was looking forward to seeing how that would turn out. 

"You helping with the planning?" Goldsworth's snide voice snatched Shane from his devious thoughts. "Banjo and Holly are really going all-out this time."

"Norris is back tomorrow, right?"

"Two days. Big party is tomorrow." 

Shane had chosen to accompany Goldsworth to the back exit, through the halls that were nothing but concrete and metal piping. Goldsworth was going on another job. Or at least, that was the last thing he'd said to everyone. Shane had different plans for him, however. 

"Ah yeah. The big party." Shane watched the back of the shorter man's head as they walked, predatory. "Bet you're annoyed you're missing it."

"Oh, whatever. There'll be another one in a few months, right?" Goldsworth spoke with casual nonchalance, but he was clearly a bit on edge. It wasn't normal for Shane to accompany him anywhere. "I'm more annoyed that I'm going to miss Norris' reaction when she finds out you're fucking her guy."

"She won't find out," said Shane dismissively, the two of them pausing at the back entrance. A small fire exit door. 

"Unless someone tells her," grinned Goldsworth. "This might be the last time we see each other. She'll probably skin you alive when she finds out."

"She won't find out," repeated Shane firmly. "But yeah. This is the last time we'll see each other."

Goldsworth blinked at this, an eyebrow raised. "...Right. It was a delightful walk. Don't do it again." He nodded at the black gloves loosely held in Shane's hands. "Going to work too?" 

"Yeah, sure," said Shane flippantly, placing a hand on the door to keep it shut. "Just a quick question before you run off. Been bothering me the past day or so."

The shorter man checked his watch, frowning. "Well make it quick, yeah?"

"Oh, of course." Shane was quiet for a moment, watching the other man's face. "Why did you hire that waiter?"

Goldsworth's face didn't change. He didn't blink. He didn't move an inch. He froze completely. "I didn't."

"So you do know the one I'm talking about?" 

Goldsworth stuttered a bit, dropping his gaze. "No, I just, I didn't hire anyone. Any waiters."

"Are you sure?" Shane folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the door. "I hope you're not lying to me, Ricky. I'll be very sad."

"Well then boo hoo." He was still a tad stiff, struggling to maintain his cockiness. "Get away from the door, man."

"You know, I always thought you were a bit odd. A bit too sneaky, and not in the right way." He straightened up off the door, wandering forwards, Goldsworth taking steps back. "And when you were enjoying Ryan's company the other day, I thought to myself, hm, that's strange. That's not normal."

"It's none of your business," replied Goldsworth defensively. "Fuck off."

"And how's your mother, hm?" Shane could see the panic beginning to set in on his face, eyes widening. "Still a feeble old lady? Or is Lucy Goldsworth a completely different person as to what you had us all believing?" His hand drifted up to pull his second glove on over his long fingers, and there she was. She'd slipped out of his sleeve so smoothly Goldsworth hadn't even noticed. "If you could just clear up a few questions I have, that'd be _great_. Just before you go."

Goldsworth paused. Then he spun on his heel, and ran. He felt her land on his shoulder, making him skid to a halt, feeling weak with terror as he went to swipe her off like a giant wasp. But Cal sank her remaining fang into his neck, and he barely had time to scream before Shane had him by the hair, knife in hand, and the blade was ten times more lethal than Cal's fang. Goldsworth stumbled to his knees, the blood welling up between his fingers as he clutched his throat, coughing, spluttering. He heard Shane's footsteps circle him, saw the man come to a halt right in front of him. The snake was slithering back up his body, leaving red smears on his white shirt. Shane didn't seem to care. He used the end of the shirt to wipe the blood off his knife. 

"Thank you for finally giving me reason to do that, Ricky." Shane knew the guy could hear him, despite the coughing and choking as the blood splattered to the concrete. "Felt as good as I'd always imagined it would."

He left Sara to clean up the place. She was more thorough than he was. Everyone would just think Ricky had been killed on the job, and that was that. Shane's hands would be clean. Metaphorically. Right now, he had to give them a quick wash. That was the second loose end out of the way. The third was Ryan, but Ryan wasn't just a plain loose end. He was a live wire, ready to shock anyone who got too close. And Shane was going to have to get very, very close indeed.

* * *

It was almost midnight. Ryan was beginning to feel just a bit restless. He sat on the balcony, watching the town below, the distant streets with their tiny people wandering up and down. He wanted to be down there. He was getting fed up being locked away in this place, where everyone was watching him and every word was a lie. He thought about going down to Shane, seeing if his restlessness could get sorted out a few floors below. But going to Shane's rooms would be tipping the scales entirely. He had to be the one in control. But it was goddamn difficult. He got to his feet, heading over to the balcony, peering over it. Shane wasn't on his. The lights of his rooms were off, too. Ryan leaned on the iron railing, sighing heavily.

At first, he'd found Shane unnerving. This quickly grew to attraction. And now, Shane was straight-up enticing. The nonchalant way he held himself, relaxed yet always a tad tense, like a coiled whip. The way in which he seemed to own everything he touched. He was a man who did everything to the extreme. Drinking, killing, fucking, he just didn't hold back in any regard. Ryan's mind swiftly wandered to alcohol. He was beginning to see why all of them drank so much; it was either think about things that would worry you sick, or don't think at all.

He had just popped open a bottle of hard alcohol when his door opened, and in stepped Shane. The stains on his white shirt were visible even in the dark. Ryan lowered the bottle, a slight frown on his face as the taller man closed the space between them, not uttering a word. He took the bottle from Ryan's hand, placing it aside as he pulled the shorter man in with his other hand, kissing him hungrily, harshly. Ryan let himself be guided backwards, bumping against the drinks cabinet, Shane sweeping the glasses and bottles aside without a single care. They bounced on the carpet, a few smashing off each other. Ryan was up on the now-clear surface before he even noticed, feeling Shane's fingers under his shirt, ripping it open, mouth burrowed under Ryan's jaw, his hands holding Ryan's body firmly against his. And Ryan suddenly became very aware of the lack of control he had in the current situation. He struggled to get a hold of his thoughts again, eyes fluttering closed as he tilted his head back, Shane's tongue running up his throat. He tangled a fist in Shane's thick hair, wrenching the man's head back, the two of them breathing heavily as they looked at each other.

"What's with the blood?" asked Ryan, feeling the other man's hands running down his chest, his ribs, warm and rough. "Who's is it?"

A quiet laugh, Shane's fingers now occupied with the shorter man's belt. "Since when do we talk and fuck?"

Ryan felt Shane move in, quickly tightening his grip on Shane's hair, hearing the man take a sharp breath. "I'm just curious."

Shane's hands paused on Ryan's belt, fingertips just touching his skin. "It's not yours. That's all that matters."

"And why would it be mine?"

Shane was quiet for a moment. Then he took the hand from his hair, holding it aside. "I'm just here to do whatever you want me to do, Ryan. Not to play Twenty Questions."

"Well what if I want you to play Twenty Questions?"

Shane watched the other man's darkened features, feeling Ryan's pulse pick up in the wrist he was still holding. "I'd find that very annoying. Because I'm very turned on right now, and I just want to fuck you and leave. Unless you don't want that anymore?"

Ryan held his gaze, silent. He knew Shane had done something, something bad. He knew bloodlust when he saw it, even if it was tied up with plain lust. And there was nothing like a good fuck after a kill. Ryan slipped a hand around the back of the taller man's neck, pulling him down, their open mouths meeting, and they couldn't even make it to the bedroom. They ended up entangled on the floor, ravaging each other, and it was hotter and heavier and more aggressively passionate than any time before. The feeling of Ryan's fingers dragging down his back was painful, and left marks, and Shane left marks on him, on his neck, on his chest, his stomach, their bodies sliding against each other, rough and wet. And the entire time, the two of them knew. _I'm going to kill you, or you're going to kill me, and either way, it's going to hurt._

* * *

It was early the next morning. Three or four. Ryan turned his head, looking back over his shoulder at the man next to him. Shane had actually stayed for the night. He'd been too exhausted to even consider the walk to the elevator. He lay there, sound asleep, barely a foot away. His hair was tousled wildly, both from bedhead, and from Ryan's fingers only hours ago. And when he was asleep, he appeared oddly soft. Gentle. Deceivingly so. Ryan wanted to shake him awake, to climb on top of him, to pick up where they'd left off. He convinced himself not to; he was getting addicted. He knew he was. Addicted to Shane Madej, and he was well aware that there was no drug more dangerous.

He moved quietly, carefully, leaning over the sleeping man to the bedside locker. The top drawer held a small blade taped to the top, more of a letter opener than anything else. But it was enough to slit a throat. His fingers searched for it, brushing the dry wood. He frowned, eyes fixed to the ceiling as he concentrated on not shaking the bed as he fumbled for the weapon.

The hand grabbed his arm, pushing it away, pinning it back down to the bed, throwing him flat on his back. Shane hovered over him, one hand still gripping Ryan's arm, the other a raised fist. Ryan's eyes were wide, his breath caught in his throat, behind his clenched teeth. They held each other's gazes, unblinking. 

"Sorry," said Shane with a smooth smile, lowering his fist. "Habit."

Ryan returned the smile, letting his gaze drift down to the other man's mouth. "You usually try to hit people who wake up next to you?"

"Not if they don't deserve it." Shane's free hand was now running down Ryan's arm, light and teasing, his fingers pushing through Ryan's. "Do you deserve it?"

Ryan kept the wry smile on his face, feeling the other man's hand drifting down his chest, slipping around his side, running down his waist. The other hand still pinned his arm to the bed. "If you want to frisk me, you can just ask."

A pause. Shane rolled off him, sitting upright, reaching for the tin of cigarettes on the bedside locker. He made sure to close the top drawer as he did so. Just in case there had been something more than a knife in there, something he'd missed. He lit up a cigarette, passing one to Ryan once the man put a hand out.

"I didn't know you smoked," said Shane, an eyebrow raised. 

"Only under special circumstances." Ryan accepted the lit flame Shane held out for him, not taking his eyes from the taller man's, even through the flickering light. "I like to steer away from things bad for my health."

"But here you are," grinned Shane, taking the flame back, lighting his own cigarette.

"Mm. Here I am."

Shane watched the pale grey smoke curl from the other man's lips, Ryan's face just about visible in the dim light from the cigarette. "You're pretty healthy, right? Very fit."

Ryan skipped a beat. "Yeah, I guess."

"You guess? There's barely any fat on you at all." Shane exhaled slowly, turning his head to meet the glint of Ryan's eyes. "Why's that?"

Ryan laughed quietly. "You're complaining?"

"I'm curious."

"Well I have a few curiosities about you too." Ryan rolled onto him, casually straddling him, feeling Shane's hand take a hold of his hip. Precautionary. "But you never tell me anything. So why would I tell you?"

"I'm just making conversation."

"You're not here because I want you to make conversation with me." Ryan took hold of the headboard either side of Shane's head, leaning in, their faces inches apart. "You're here because I want you to fuck me. I thought that was clear."

Shane's eyes narrowed slightly. He stubbed his cigarette out in the glass ashtray, taking Ryan's and doing the same. Then he flipped them, pinning the shorter man underneath him, his mouth finding Ryan's neck, beginning nice and slow. Ryan let his eyes close, head resting back against the pillow, his whole body relaxing as Shane traveled down it, each brush of his tongue making a muscle melt under it. Ryan bit on his lip hard, resting a leg over Shane's shoulder. _That was close_. He let out a quiet breath, fingers slipping through Shane's hair, tangling in it. _That was way too close_. It was only two days until Norris was back, with that priest, and then Ryan could do his job and be gone. He'd last until then. 

He turned his head aside, teeth gritting, a rough moan escaping anyway. He cursed his own luck, knowing full well he had to kill this guy, this guy who knew that something was up, who knew that something was off. But he forgot his own thoughts within minutes, and Horsley woke up and moved down to Banjo's rooms yet again.

He'd last until Norris was back. He had to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, beginning to put together ideas for the road trip fic part 2... here's a lil music inspo for it https://youtu.be/PRh2mQoK9ls


	7. Lazarus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shane in this fic as a vine: https://youtu.be/BlkcETiZnyk
> 
> i didn't proofread this so pls excuse any mistakes. i am a tired

"I thought you liked the town!"

"I like it when I'm not hungover, Banjo." Shane rubbed his eyes again, following the small group through the cobblestone streets. "I mean, what is this? A family event?"

"It's nice for us all to go together," smiled Banjo, ushering Shane forwards, forcing him to bump against the shorter man in front. "And it's more of a ritual!"

"You just like spending money that's not yours, Bernard," said Horsley, busy pouring the contents of her hip flask into her paper cup of coffee. "You know, if I wasn't the accountant, you'd be screwed."

Ryan didn't join in on the bickering. He was too preoccupied, scanning the small town square, searching for the familiar face that he'd seen in a doorway on the way down. He'd seen him. He'd definitely seen him. He spared a sidelong glance over his shoulder, eyes landing on the name badge of the man behind him. _Manager_. Ryan let his eyes flicker up to meet Shane's, the taller man giving him a dry smile. Civilized. They had to be civilized. They were in public. 

"I did _not_ order that ma-"

"You _did_ order that many!" Horsley counted them off on her fingers. "Fifty crates of red wine, fifty of white, a hundred of-"

Ryan turned his head ever so slightly to peer down a side alley, gritting his teeth as he felt the hand slip around his waist. "I don't think that's a good idea, big guy. Norris has eyes everywhere."

"They're my eyes before they're hers." Shane swiftly steered the shorter man away from the alley he'd seen him look down. "Remember that."

Ryan stared straight ahead, wanting to break every single one of the man's fingers. "You can get your hand off me now."

"I don't think I can."

"I don't like being-"

"Manhandled?" Shane smiled down at him, a teasing gesture. "I think you do. Very much."

Ryan rolled his eyes, taking hold of the arm that was across his back, holding it away as he turned to look at the taller man. "Not in the middle of the street, smartass."

"I'm not gonna act dumb with you, Bergara." Shane took hold of Ryan's arm in a firm grip, pulling him onward after Banjo and Horsley. "I'm not trying to be sweet here. I'm making sure you don't have second thoughts about your 'love' for Norris and decide to scarper."

"And why wouldn't I be allowed leave if I wanted to?" replied Ryan, circling the taller man to cut him off, stopping him in his tracks. "I think I could leave right now if I wanted to. And you wouldn't be able to stop me. Not even if you wanted to."

Shane saw their two companions pull over at the bar across the bustling square, to pick up their substantial delivery of all spirits and liquors. "Sometimes I get the feeling you don't like me."

Ryan shrugged. "I don't."

"Yeah. I'll ask you that same question later, when I'm fucking you into a coma." Shane patted the shorter man's face softly, smiling at the blush that quickly grew on it. "I think your answer might change."

"Right."

Ryan reluctantly allowed himself to be guided on, the crowd parting before them. Now, it wasn't a casual parting of a crowd. It was a reaction to something, a reaction shared by every local in the place. Their eyes would land on Shane, and their priority was to avoid the man at all costs. Ryan saw a few of them frown at him, a few raise their eyebrows in wonder. _Who is this, who has_ _managed to tame the Devil himself?_ Ryan felt the flutter of panic in his chest again, at the thought of what was to come. He wasn't sure what was coming, but it gave him the same uncomfortable feeling as driving headfirst into a wall of fog.

"Why did you lie?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Shane threw a frown at him as they crossed the cobblestones, the light from the streetlamps making their situation look deceivingly warm. "About what?"

"Having a hangover." Ryan smiled wryly. Not at him. But he could feel Shane looking at him. "I know you didn't drink enough to have one."

"Mm." Shane quirked an eyebrow. "I lied because I didn't want them to know we were together. Again."

"But they know," replied Ryan, turning on his heel to face the taller man, wandering backwards as he spoke. "They both know, right? I mean, how couldn't they?"

"I still don't want to go rubbing it in people's faces," said Shane, watching the shorter man's light, unbothered movements. "And you shouldn't want to either."

Ryan grinned at him. "You don't want to show me off?"

"I want to put you in a black sack and throw you into the sea."

"Ugh, you're such a romantic." 

Shane rolled his eyes, stepping around him, the shorter man turning to face him as they kept walking. "How are you so awake right now?"

"My stamina is off the charts. As you know."

"Mm, I do know." Shane suddenly turned, eyes narrowed at the milling crowd. "What is it? What do you keep looking at?"

"I'm not looking at anything!" 

Shane turned his suspicious gaze back to the shorter man, watching the innocent face for a long moment. "Keep walking."

"You're the one who stopped."

"God, you are so irritating. But you're hot, so it doesn't matter."

"Aw. Thanks."

They continued on towards the fairy-lit bar, side-by-side, as if they were remotely friends. Ryan spared the quickest glance over his shoulder, and there he was again. It was definitely him. There wasn't a doubt in his mind. _What are you still doing here?_ He turned his gaze back to Shane's narrowed eyes, a charming smile already on his face. _And how do I get to you?_ Banjo and Horsley were already on their way out, crates loaded in their arms, and a few vanfuls ready to head up to the hotel on the hillside. 

Ryan started forwards, slipping ahead of the taller man. "You guys need help?"

Horsley's head appeared around the side of her crates. "Yes, actually. I can't drink my coffee while- Ooh!"

Ryan let the crate drop, the wood splintering, red wine spilling out like blood. He gasped with the rest of them, already turning away. "Oh, whoops! I'll go get a-"

Shane's hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back, grip tight. "Nice try. As if _you'd_ find that box too heavy."

Ryan scowled up at him, miffed that it hadn't worked. "Yeah, well how about I-"

He drove a sly punch into the taller man's side, a hard dig, just enough to force him to step back with a rough curse. Shane's hand slipped off him. And then Ryan was gone, weaving through the people chatting and laughing, ignoring the sound of Shane telling him to get back, and get back _now_. He crossed the square like Pacman through a maze, heading into the side alley he'd seen him down. He waited for a moment, listening for the sounds of any pursuit. He'd be pursued, he knew that. He wasn't intending on running away anyway. He just needed to talk to him.

"Steven?" He went deeper into the shadowy alley, hands raised slightly, ready to retaliate against anyone who might decide to try their luck. "Steven, dude. It's me. Ryan."

"Shh."

Steven poked his head out from around the corner, still wearing the shawl around his head like an old woman. He drew Ryan into the small space, giving him a brief but sincere hug. Then he pulled back, eyes wide as he instantly let it all spill forwards. Ryan didn't breathe for the whole thing.

"He tried to fucking kill me, Ryan. I was at the station, the train station, and this curly-haired woman appeared out of nowhere and fucking _stabbed_ me, and these guys took me out and threw me into the fucking river, dude, and I was like, gonna die, and the woman mentioned Shane, it was that insane son of a-"

"Wait, what?! He tried to have you killed?" Ryan blinked, the fury already rising in his chest. "When? When was it?"

"Last night! At like, half ten! He-"

Ryan closed his eyes as he remembered where he was at the exact time. In his rooms, in his bed, under the very man who had tried to murder his friend. And the fact that Shane knew, that Shane knew the whole time, that Shane fucked him while he was fully aware that his friend was about to get murdered... The anger was white hot in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

"...and this guy took me out, and cleaned me up. His name's Andrew, he works for Lucy Goldsworth. He said Goldsworth's _dead_." Steven searched his face for any signs of whether or not this was true. "Is he dead? Did Shane kill him?"

Ryan shook his head, fists clenched tightly by his sides. "No. No, Goldsworth's gone on a 'trip'. He went last night."

"I don't know, man. Apparently Shane killed him himself. Andrew said he saw the body being dumped, that his throat was all cut up."

 _The blood. The blood on his shirt_. Ryan couldn't stop his breaths from trembling with rage. With humiliation. At the fact that Shane had been fucking him on the floor, after having killed one of Ryan's allies and planned the death of the other only minutes beforehand. "I'm going to kill him."

Steven blinked. "Huh?"

"I'm going to kill Shane Madej." Ryan looked him dead in the eye, still too mad to process exactly what he was saying. "I'm going to kill Carlos Oliveira, and then I'm going to kill Shane Madej."

"You can't. You know Tinsley doesn't-"

"It's not business. It's personal." Ryan grabbed Steven's arm, as if he was making a promise, taking an oath. "I'm not leaving this place until I've killed him. Until he's looking me dead in the eye, and he knows that I'm the reason he's choking to death on his own fucking blood."

Steven nodded after a moment, swallowing. "If you have to."

"Oh, I have to. As much as I have to breathe." Ryan gave him another tight hug, stepping back, already hearing Shane's furious voice close by, echoed by Banjo and Holly. "Get out of here, Steven. I'll see you at Tinsley's."

He hurried back towards the main square, wondering if he'd even be able to contain his fury when he set his eyes on Shane. He headed towards the familiar voices, rounding the corner, seeing the three of them standing in the light at the end of the alley. Banjo and Horsley had their backs to him, facing Shane, who was standing with his hands on his hips between them. Ryan didn't slow, undeterred by the flurry of curses thrown at him the second Shane spotted him.

"What the _fuck_ was that, Bergara?" Shane pushed through the other two, eyes fixed on Ryan's, seemingly oblivious to the anger burning in them. "You little dick. You fucking hit me."

"No I didn't."

"Where the hell were you, huh?" Shane grabbed hold of him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him forwards, closing the small space between them. "What did you sneak off for?"

"Leave him alone, Shane." Banjo pushed between them, his width giving them a whole lot of space. "He can go where he wants."

Shane looked from Banjo to Horsley, who simply raised her eyebrows over her coffee. "Are you two serious?"

"Norris' guys can always go where they want," shrugged Holly, already turning away, heading back towards the bar. "Why would that change?"

Shane watched as Banjo wandered off after her, the two of them making their priorities all too clear. Ryan appeared in his line of sight, not a hint of a smile on his face. No playful winks, no suggestive glances. Just icy cold. Shane stared back, a frown just touching upon his face.

"Yeah, why would that change, Shane?" Ryan's dark eyes were sharp, almost accusing. "Why can't I do what I want? I'm just one of Norris' guys."

Shane didn't break eye contact. "Are you."

"If you don't cross me, yeah. That's all I am." 

A silence, but for the chatter of the crowd, seeming so distant despite the proximity. "Where did you just go, Ryan."

The shorter man held his gaze for just a few seconds too long. "Doesn't matter."

The trek back to the hotel seemed twice as long as usual. Typically, it was a nice walk; scenic, and relatively flat despite being on a hill. The steps were carved into the stone, curving up towards the front of the hotel, giving a stunning view of the twinkling town below as it went. But Shane didn't take any of it in. He was too busy wondering what Ryan was up to. _Are you a spy? Are you a crazy person? Or are you something else?_ Ryan hadn't looked at him for a while, and when he did, Shane felt like he was being mentally murdered. Which he was, unbeknownst to him. In horrible, horrible ways. Their hands brushed as they followed the jolly Banjo and Horsley up the steps. Shane kept his gaze lowered as he felt Ryan's hand slip up his arm, catch hold of his shoulder, making him stop. 

"This is our last night together," said Ryan quietly, his other hand trailing up Shane's stomach, slow and sure. "And I'm gonna make it one you'll never forget."

Shane turned his head ever so slightly, his lowered gaze angled towards the shorter man. "Yeah. Try not to sound so threatening."

"I thought you liked it like that."

Shane allowed himself to be pulled down, closing his eyes as Ryan's lips met his, the gesture physically hot, emotionally icy. He stayed where he was, watching Ryan skip off up the steps without a care in the world. He reluctantly followed. Something about Ryan had changed. Something had changed in the last half hour, and he had a feeling it was going to be bad news for him. Shane threw a glance at the lights of the hotel up the hill. A party had never seemed so threatening.

"Shane." Horsley fell back in line with him, paper coffee in hand. Well, half coffee, half scotch. "Just a heads-up. Hitman due tonight."

Shane raised an eyebrow at her, not exactly too shocked. "Another one for Norris?"

"Yep. The usual."

"Well get me a name, would you?"

She threw a disdainful look his way. "Watch your tongue, young man."

"Yeah. Sorry."

* * *

Everyone was sloppy drunk. Hammered. The music was too loud, the marble floors were sticky with spilled drinks. It smelled like beer, and vodka, and cigarette smoke. Yes, parties are one of the worst places to be when you're sober. Which Shane was.

He could see Ryan, laughing and talking with Banjo and Holly, at the pop-up bar in the foyer. Shane took a deep breath, willing himself to not get turned on so easily. But God, the other man looked downright delicious. He wore all black, his shirt collar undone, face unshaven, hair ruffled like he'd just rolled out of bed. And not just because he'd been sleeping. They'd barely talked all night, but for a perfiduously romantic dance, their grips just a bit too tight on each other, eyes locked, barbed comments flying as recklessly as Banjo and Holly in the background. And since then, Shane had been actively avoiding the other man. He had to bide his time, wait until anyone else was too drunk to notice they'd vanished. He gritted his teeth as Ryan looked at him again, dark eyes watching him over the rim of his glass. _Stop screwing with me here, Bergara. You know how much I want you_.

"Can I have a-"

"Go away," said Shane instantly, still watching Ryan across the room. 

The guest frowned at him, her neat eyebrows knitted. "Excuse me? I'd like a glass of champ-"

"They're mine," replied Shane with a roll of his eyes, watching her take her hand away from the tray in question. "Go find your own. They're literally everywhere."

"The service here is despicable. Wait until I-"

"Tell the manager?" Shane flicked his badge, the gold gleaming. "Suck it, lady."

She stormed off, a tad unsteady due to her heels and copious amounts of drink. Just like everyone else. The place was overflowing with rich friends and frenemies alike. And despite the abundance of spirits and beers and wines, Shane stuck with the least alcohol option. Even though Ryan seemed to be delving into the whiskey no problem. Which was making him think twice about whether or not the guy was actually trying to kill him at all.

"-and the body turned up _two years later_!" exclaimed Banjo, his pint of beer sloshing with his gestures. "I'd been so drunk when I'd ordered his death, that I forgot what I told them to do with the body!"

Ryan spared him a laugh, not taking his eyes from Shane's. He took another sip of his drink. The apple juice was beginning to get sickly sweet, but he had to keep up the act. Well, half the act. He wasn't drunk, but fuck, did he want to be in a room alone with Shane right there and then. The man lounged back against the bar, downing the rest of his champagne, placing the glass aside with dangerous nonchalance. The tall glass teetered wildly, but remained standing. Ryan mentally cursed himself as he saw Shane straighten up off the bar, saw him head for the nearest door, ignoring the people in the crowd who tried to talk to him. He wanted to follow. Fuck it, he was going to follow.

"Excuse me a moment," he muttered, placing his glass aside as he made his own way across the room.

He had barely closed the door when Shane was on him, driving him into the corner between the door and the wall, fingers tearing open the shorter man's shirt, mouth hot on his. Ryan didn't even have to think about anything other than Shane as he was picked up, legs hooking around Shane's waist. The elevator was empty, the various floors they passed emitting different sounds, all so distant; people, music, glasses clinking. But the loudest sound was their heavy breaths as they stumbled out of the elevator, hitting the wall, Shane's arm pressed to the cool wallpaper, Ryan's hands under his shirt, digging into his back, leaving scratches with all the others.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck." Ryan tilted his head back, rolling it aside as Shane's mouth worked against his neck, pushing under his jaw. "Oh _fuck_ , fuck me, now, _now_ , come on."

Shane didn't bother turning on the light, his heart racing, hands pushing the shorter man's shirt off his shoulders, down his arms.

"Wait, wait." Ryan stood for a moment, eyes glued to the soft glow against the wall. A tank. "These are your rooms."

"And?" Shane moved back in, speaking against the shorter man's mouth. "Mine are closer."

Ryan closed his eyes as Shane's lips met his again, suddenly feeling a hell of a lot more vulnerable than five seconds ago. He was in enemy territory, settings only vaguely familiar from the night he'd searched the place. But how to get out? How to convince Shane to move somewhere where he'd preferably have an advantage, or at least where they'd both be on equal footing? He couldn't think quick enough, being walked back towards the bedroom, each thought interrupted as Shane's hands touched him, held him, took control. He lay back on the bed, the taller man climbing on top of him, their mouths meeting again. Ryan pulled the other man down by his tie, wanting to wrap it around his fist and choke the guy to death with it. _You tried to kill Steven. So you_ _deserve what's coming_.

He rolled them sideways, a vigorous movement, lying on top of the taller man like a cat across a particularly comfortable piece of furniture. Shane stared up at him, his breaths heavy, hair ruffled. Ryan stared back, lips parted, searching the other man's eyes as they gleamed in the dark. For a long moment, there was silence. Silence but for the distant shouts of a party, and the low thumping of music, and their deep breaths. And instead of doing what he'd intended to do, he did the exact opposite. Instead of brutally murdering Shane with his bare hands, he lowered himself against him, his open mouth finding the other man's in a heavy kiss.  

* * *

Shane lay on his back, still breathing heavily, eyes closed. _Fuck. Fuck, that was insane_. He could hear Ryan beside him panting for air as well, throat bared, shiny with sweat. Shane's eyes fixed on it, his own breathing slowing as he pondered his next move. He could pin the guy down. He knew he could. He'd been doing so for the past hour, holding the shorter man's wrists down above his head as he fucked him hard, willing him to fold before he did. And when Shane realized that he was more likely to fold before Ryan did, he switched tactics, holding the other man by his hips, holding him still as he went down on him. But Ryan's hand took a fistful of his hair, pulling him back up, the two of them panting for air, eyes locked as they finally realized that they both had the same plan; fuck the other into a coma, then kill him in his sleep.

“You like it when I top, right?” Ryan spoke around his heavy breaths, a hand still tangled in the other man’s thick hair.

Shane swallowed, placing his hand on Ryan’s chest to keep him down. He did like it when Ryan topped. He liked it too much to be safe in this scenario. “I guess.”

“Then come on.” Ryan managed to flip them with a bit of force, seeing the determination in the set of the other man’s jaw. “We don’t have a lot of time left together.” Despite the fact that he was dripping with sweat, his chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon, he sounded smug. Like he knew this was it. “Might as well make the most of it.”

Shane kept his gaze on Ryan’s lips as the man leaned forwards, their faces inches apart. He couldn’t speak. Maybe the other man  _was_ a spy. Or maybe he was just a demon disguised as some sort of angel. His eyes traveled down the other man’s lean body as Ryan sat back, slipping his fingers through Shane’s, guiding Shane’s hands to his hips. The taller man tried to keep his face neutral, to not show just how screwed he knew he was. But Ryan’s flicker of a smile said enough.  _Game over, Madej_. The shorter man pushed forwards, grinding slowly into him, feeling the fingers dig into his hips as the other man’s body arched under him, muscles tautening under Ryan’s hands where they rested on his stomach. An almost-pained moan ripped from Shane’s throat, his eyes squeezed shut as he panted for air. He had never felt such a mixture of pleasure and dread in his life, and it was an intoxicating feeling that he quickly lost himself to.

Horsley's phone call had interrupted. A very important message, a red alert. ' _The asset is_ in _the building. Has been the whole time_.' Shane reached over, placing a deceivingly gentle hand against Ryan's throat. ' _Ryan Bergara. Norris' guy_.' He could feel him hot and wet under his fingers. Ryan was looking at him, face hidden in the dark. _Kill him_. Shane let his thumb brush along the man's sharp jaw. _Kill him before he kills you_. Ryan kept his throat bared, tantalizingly so. _God damn you_. Shane propped himself up on an elbow, leaning over the other man, faces inches apart. And instead of wrapping his hands around the perfectly available throat, he lowered himself against the shorter man, just to taste him once more. _Damn you_.  _I want you forever_. 

No, there was no point in trying to overpower the guy. Shane wasn't weak, not by a long shot. But Ryan was definitely stronger. And even though all Shane wanted to do was sleep, he didn't. He forced himself to sit upright, rubbing a hand over his mouth as he took a deep, steadying breath. 

"You're not leaving, are you?"

Shane closed his eyes as he felt the hands slip around his waist, drift up to rest on his chest, Ryan's lips coming together against his shoulder. _Oh, you poisonous bastard_. Shane tilted his head aside slightly, Ryan's mouth migrating up the side of his neck. He reached behind him, pushing his fingers through Ryan's dark, damp hair. _Fuck you_. 

"I'm thirsty," he muttered, eyes fluttering as Ryan's tongue brushed his skin, as his fingers dragged down his chest. "I'm gonna get water."

Ryan skipped a beat. "Sure."

Shane stood up, getting half-dressed in the dark, not bothering to button his shirt, or put on his waistcoat. He was just going to the kitchen. To get water. That was all. 

He slipped into the sitting room, heading right over to her tank. She almost jumped into his hand, winding up his arm, vanishing under his sleeve as he rolled one and then the other up. He already felt safer, more secure in his actions. He went ahead into the small kitchen, taking the gun from the top drawer, where other cutlery was kept. He checked it was loaded before heading back to the bedroom. _Alright, Bergara. Let's see what you've got_. 

He paused outside the dark room, listening hard. Not a peep. Which was suspicious in itself. He raised the gun, giving the door a small kick. It slowly swung open. Still no movement. Not a sound either. But Ryan's clothes were missing from the floor. Looked like he'd also put on what little protection he could. And it was then Shane realized that Ryan had chosen his clothing very strategically indeed. The room was pitch black. Shane could feel the breeze from the balcony sweeping in, the door just that bit wider than before he left.

"Shit." He lowered the gun, heading towards the door, the billowing curtains. "Son of a-"

He saw two different gleams out of the corner of his eye. One was the gleam of eyes, hard and sharp. The other was the gleam of a knife, harder and sharper. Shane didn't even get to raise the gun fully. Ryan aimed right for his throat, already on top of him. Shane's arm whipped up to defend himself, the blade slicing across the back of his wrist. He cursed, dropping the gun from his loosened grip. Then Ryan let out a yell, stumbling backwards, shocked. Shane could hear her hissing furiously. He lashed out, grabbing a fistful of the shorter man's black shirt, yanking him forwards into the hard punch he drove right into his face. Ryan's head snapped back, the pain exploding in his nose, temporarily blinding him as his legs almost went from under him. But in the dark, he didn't need sight to win.

He kept a hold of Shane's wrist, swinging his legs up, hooking them around the taller man's shoulder as he let himself drop to the floor, bringing Shane down with him. He felt a single fang sink into his shoulder, making him grit his teeth again, hitting his shoulder off the floor in an attempt to knock Cal loose. Shane's hand scrambled to catch hold of the knife, seeming unbothered as he grabbed it by the blade, the adrenaline making the bite of the knife dull. 

"Fuck!" Ryan let the knife go as he felt another stinging bite, right in his ribs. He rolled away, pulling his shirt open, reaching for the pale white tail that slid away under his arm. "You little-"

He didn't even see the taller man move in the dark. Shane slammed into him, a move that would've put the entire NFL to shame. They tumbled across the floor, both all-too-used to flipping their positions. They stopped once they'd hit the bedside locker, Shane on top, a hand scrabbling for anything of use on the locker, his other hand holding Ryan down by his hair. The phone cord caught Ryan around his throat as he tried to roll away, yanking him backwards, Shane's knee digging into his back. Ryan abandoned his search for Cal, the cord burning his skin it was pulled so tightly. He managed to force his fingers behind it, making just enough space for a gasped breath. 

"You know, Tinsley never changes," muttered Shane, twisting the cord, feeling the muscles in Ryan's back harden against his knee. "I don't know where he finds you people, but you're all the same. Useless."

Ryan gritted his teeth, glaring at the blackness of the ceiling. Then he released the cord. It dug into his throat, and he pushed himself back, using Shane's propped-up leg as a surface to push off, driving his knee right into the taller man's face. Shane let out a yelped curse, the two of them tumbling backwards, landing heavily on the floor.

Ryan scrambled to his feet first, ripping the phone cord from around his throat. He stumbled against the door frame as another stabbing pain shot through his shoulder, forcing a hissed curse from his mouth. He reached behind him as he fled for the door, trying to catch hold of her, of those dry scales he could somehow feel everywhere, all over him. His fingers took hold of her below her small head, yanking her out of his shirt, holding her away. She wriggled angrily as he panted for breath, multiple areas across his body burning from her tooth.

"Ryan."

He turned at the quiet voice, seeing Shane standing in the doorway to the bedroom, one hand on the frame, the other hand cupping his bloodied nose. The collar of his white shirt was stained, droplets of dark red. Ryan kept a tight hold of Cal, feeling her squirming furiously to get at him, her one tooth bared.

"Ryan, put her down." His voice sounded thick from the blood still dripping from his nose. "Just put her back in her tank. Don't hurt her."

"Don't hurt her?" Ryan laughed breathlessly, incredulously. He held his shirt open with his free hand, showing the various bite marks, some still bleeding, slow but steady. "Are you serious?"

Shane swallowed, tasting the coppery tinge of blood. "This can be settled with you and me. No one else needs to get hurt."

Ryan shook his head in disbelief. "You can't be serious. You're a goddamn descendant of the Spanish Inquisition. Your job _is_ to hurt people."

"Not people who aren't involved in what I'm looking for." Shane moved into the room, Ryan backing away, towards the balcony. "Just put her down."

"You tried to kill Steven, didn't you?"

Shane paused, an eyebrow raised. He didn't reply for a long moment. "Tried?"

"He's alive, you idiot." Ryan continued backing towards the balcony, holding Cal out, like a ribbon possessed by a vengeful ghost. "But it still made me mad."

"Oh, so what. You're in love with him or some shit?" Shane snorted, despite the pain in his nose at the gesture. "There's only one use for love in this line of work, pal. And that's to hurt people."

"He's my friend. Not that you'd understand the meaning of the word."

"Ouch, my feelings." Shane rolled his eyes, coming ever closer. The hand that had grabbed the knife was still openly bleeding, a gash along his fingers. He wiped it on his shirt. "C'mon. You're not going to leave this place alive. So just come here, and let me take care of you, baby." His voice grew soft, comforting. "Keep you satisfied. Just like you said."

Ryan stopped in the balcony doors, the transparent curtains floating either side of him. "What a tease."

"Ryan." He said the name in an almost sing-song fashion, letting it drag out. He had a bloodied hand raised, as if trying to calm the other man down. "Don't do what you're thinking about doing."

Ryan looked at Cal, at the beady little eyes, the tiny snout that caused so much pain. He could probably crush her skull right there. Yet he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't harm an animal, no matter how vicious. _No such thing as a bad pet. Only a bad owner_.

"Maybe we could talk something out, hm?" Shane was barely a meter away, his eyes giving off a completely different message than his words did. "Because really, I'd hate to have to kill you. You bring me so much _pleasure_."

Ryan took a step back out onto the balcony, still holding Cal aside, hearing her hiss irritably. " _These violent delights have violent ends_. Shakespeare, right?"

"How the fuck would I know?" Shane kept his hand out, as if expecting the other man to just drop the snake into it. "I swear to God, Ryan, if you hurt her-"

"Is this the only thing in the world you care about?" Ryan leaned back against the iron railings, nonchalantly holding the snake out behind him, over the ten-story drop to the hillside below. "Is this your only weakness, hm? The big bad Shane Madej has a heart?"

"Ryan. Don't." 

"Would you say a snake could survive a fall from this height?" Ryan spared a glance behind him, lazy. "I don't think anything could."

Shane swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on Cal. "Ryan, I- Come on. Don't."

"You know, I don't remember you giving me the option to beg when it came to killing Steven." He shrugged, feeling Cal now pulling forwards, trying to get to her owner. Her mouth opened and closed uselessly. "Funny how things work out."

"She's a goddamn _pet_ , you dick." Shane stayed in the doorway, hair tousled, nose bloodied, shirt stained with red. "Even I don't go around dropping people's beloved pets off balconies."

"Maybe I'm worse than you."

Shane stared at him for a long moment, closing his mouth. "No. No one's worse than me."

"Oh really?"

Shane held his gaze, unwavering. "Really."

Ryan gritted his teeth, willing himself to let go of Cal. To drop this demon string to its death. If ever an animal deserved to die, it was this one. But his fingers just wouldn't open.

"Go on, then." Shane stood in the middle of the doorway, blocking the safest escape route. "Show me how much worse than me you are."

Ryan stared at him, face stoney. Then he flung Cal right at the taller man's face. Shane cursed loudly, catching hold of her, and in the two seconds it took to do this, Ryan had slid under his legs and back into the room. Shane tossed the snake aside to relative safety as he took off after the shorter man, even more furious than before. He rammed Ryan right into the door the shorter man had half-opened, slamming it shut again, Ryan snarling a curse as his head struck off the wood.

"You little bastard." Shane's voice was rough with anger as he took hold of Ryan by the jaw, slamming him back against the door again, the hinges rattling with the impact. He held the shorter man upright, Ryan's eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted in a snarl. "You think you can just fuck with me like that and skip away, do you?"

Ryan didn't reply, eyes glued to the taller man's as he panted for breath. One hand held Shane's wrist, the other held his shirt collar. 

"I'm gonna kill you so slowly you'll think you're already in hell," said Shane darkly, pulling Ryan forwards, their faces inches apart. 

Ryan spat at him, hitting him right in the face. "Fuck you."

Shane grabbed him by the throat with both hands in a crushing grip, dragging him in a circle, ignoring the pain of Ryan's nails digging into his hands. And the last thing Ryan saw before the darkness took over was Shane's face, and an anger he never would've thought possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmm next one's juicy


	8. The Devil Wears A Suit And Tie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prettttty violent as you'd expect
> 
> also I'd like to thank Etta James' song _At Last_ for the inspo for the first scene, especially the strangely ominous tone of the last two lines :) https://youtu.be/S-cbOl96RFM?t=146

His tall figure swayed slightly beside the table. Ryan blinked hard, the music loud, swelling, and just audible was Shane humming along contentedly. The taller man was rifling through various sharp objects, all of which Ryan had no intention of letting near him. He pulled forwards, being yanked back instantly by his own restraints. The rope dug into his wrists, burningly tight. Shane turned at the sound of the chair screeching, eyebrows raised and a smile on his face, like a friend had just arrived for dinner.

"Rise and shine, little guy.” Shane was still moving in time to the slow music coming from the record player as he came towards him, like he was in the middle of a dance hall. He still wore the same bloodstained shirt, carelessly buttoned, a bruise just visible on his chest. Ryan wasn't sure whether he'd left it there with his mouth or his fist. “Mm. The music is a nice touch. I’ve never done it before, but I wanted a little something  _special_  for you.”

“I’m flattered.” Ryan stayed leaning forwards, watching the other man, fists clenched where they were bound to the arms of the chair. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Sara usually aids me in these activities,” continued Shane, letting a finger trace down the side of Ryan’s face, trailing along his jaw to stop at his chin. There was a bandage around his hand to cover the knife wound, also bloodied. “But I wanted to have a nice one-on-one with you. A personal goodbye.”

Ryan swallowed hard, keeping his eyes on the taller man’s, defiant. “Again. You shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, you know me. I’m just too generous sometimes.” He turned away, taking his time in sauntering back over to the table, clicking his fingers in time to the music. “ _You smiiiiiile, you smile…”_ He spun to face Ryan, still wandering backwards, eyes closed _. “…and the spell was cast_.”

“You actually have a pretty good voice,” said Ryan with genuine surprise, eyebrows raised. “Maybe you should switch careers. Starting right now. Immediately.”

“God, you’re so  _funny_.” The last word was said a bit too roughly to be genuine, his smile more of a warning than anything else. “Funny, and pretty, and  _smart_. That was the trait that gave you away.”

“I didn’t act stupid enough, no?”

“Surprisingly, no.” Shane took his black gloves from the table, lazily pulling them on, flexing his long fingers as he did so. “Yeah, I knew you were different. Right from the start.”

Ryan sat back in his chair, trying to appear calm, collected, as he watched the other man finish pulling his second glove on. His body ached at different points, a vague memory of the burn of Cal's bites. “You’re giving me very mixed signals here, big guy. I’m tied to a chair, yet you can’t seem to stop complimenting me.”

“Mixed signals are kind of our thing, right?”

Ryan spared him a wry smile. “Right.”

Shane stepped into the light again, a demon straight from hell. The music continued, deceivingly soft, crooning. “You see this?”

Ryan glanced at the knife in question. It was small. Dainty. A curved tip. “Yeah.”

“I’m gonna use this to kill you,” said Shane simply, slipping the blade under Ryan’s chin, tilting the man’s head back. “And I’m going to make it last all night. Just like I always do.”

Ryan swallowed, keeping his head in place even when the blade had been taken away. He could hear Shane still singing, lively and happy.

“… _and here we are, in heaven. Because you are miiiiiine…”_ Shane pushed his fingers through Ryan’s hair, black glove against black. His voice went quiet with the last lyric, soft, sending chills through Ryan’s body in all the wrong ways. “At last.”

Ryan tested the restraints again, subtly, his eyes fixed on Shane as he turned away, swanning back over to the table. He was in a hell of a pickle. He squinted up at the single bulb, and really, he thought it was about time he ended up in a situation like this. But out of all the evil people he'd met in his career, Shane was the last one he would've picked to be in this situation with. 

"You know, I wasn't quite sure what to do with you." Shane kept his back to him, one hand on the table, the other resting on his hip. "Well, in the way that I had so many ideas. So many  _fantastic_  ideas."

Ryan swallowed hard as the other man turned to face him, fists clenching under the intensity of the gaze fixed on him. "I'm sure you did."

"I was gonna ruin your face," said Shane lightly, moving forwards, steps slow, nonchalant. "Make you redundant. Because really, how far would you get in your line of work if you didn't look the way you do?" 

"Not very far."

"Not very far indeed." Shane stopped right in front of him, the small slip of a knife peeking out of his belt. "But I just couldn't bring myself to do it."

Ryan took a deep breath as Shane took hold of him by the jaw, gently, caressingly. He didn't reply.

"I just couldn't bring myself to see that beautiful face ruined," he continued quietly, his eyes studying Ryan's face closely, almost fondly. "I know I'd have memories, but they're just not enough for me." He crouched down, resting his elbows on the other man's legs. He sat his head in his hand, gazing up at Ryan like an adoring lover. He didn't talk for a long moment. "You know, I actually think I could've fallen in love with you. If only you didn't talk."

Ryan looked down at him from under heavy lids, a look that was simultaneously disdainful and seductive. "If only."

"I could make it so." Shane raised an eyebrow at the flicker of alarm across the other man's face. "You ever cut out a tongue before? It's surprisingly easy. Trick is to heat up the knife."

Ryan stared at him, his stomach knotted with fear. "You wouldn't."

"I would. And you know I would." Shane tilted his head aside with a kind smile. "But that will come at the end, of course. I mean, you can't beg for me to stop if you can't talk!"

Ryan closed his eyes, his body breaking out in a cold sweat. The heat from Shane's hands contrasted with this as they pushed up his legs, taking a fierce hold of his hips, pulling them forwards with enough force for the chair to budge, for the back of it to dig into his shoulders.

"Remember all those times you played with me," said Shane quietly, his hands sliding up the other man's sides, pushing his black shirt back. The bite marks dotted him, his chest, his stomach. "Morning till night, you were fucking with me the whole time."

Ryan didn't open his eyes. "I don't recall."

"It made me very angry, Ryan," he said reprimandingly, like he was scolding a child. "And I'm still angry about it." He pushed upward, his face hovering over Ryan's, so close that Ryan had to tilt his head back. "I thought maybe I'd have worked it out of my system by now, but... I haven't."

Ryan could feel the other man's breath on his face, hot. It grew hotter as Shane leaned in, their mouths meeting with such force that Ryan's head was pushed back, his grip tightening on the arms of the chair. It was a savage kiss, one that promised pleasure for only one of them. Ryan went to turn his head away, Shane catching hold of him by the jaw, forcing Ryan to look right up at him. Ryan's eyes were wide, brows knitted, mouth parted as he panted for air. It was a look of genuine fear, of pure panic. Shane smiled. 

"Don't look at me like that, baby," said Shane, his voice a lilting purr, soothing. "I thought you liked it when we did this."

"You're fucking crazy," replied Ryan, words a bit stiff due to Shane's hard grip on his jaw. "And Norris is gonna skin you alive if you harm me."

"We both know that's not true." Shane leaned a bit further in, speaking the words right into the other man's mouth. "Not when I give my side of the story. Which is the only side she'll get."

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut as Shane kissed him again, vicious, inhaling deeply as he did so. Ryan could barely feel his heartbeat it was fluttering so fast in his chest. He pulled hard at the ropes around his wrists, so hard he thought his arms were going to break. And the kiss lingered until the pain came.

" _AAAAAAH!_ " Ryan jumped in shock, throwing his head back as the scream was forced from his mouth. "FUCK!  _FUCK!_ "

"You prefer that?" asked Shane quietly, twisting the small blade in Ryan's side, keeping his face inches from the other man's, watching with utmost satisfaction. "Because that's how my goddamn head felt whenever I saw your stupid fucking  _face_ wandering around." He twisted the blade further, making Ryan's panted groans burst into a scream again. "God, I love that sound."

Ryan flinched violently as the blade was pulled out, the chair screeching with the movement. "Fuck- Fuck, I can't- Fuck you.  _Fuck you_."

"Oh, Ryan. I've only just started." Shane gestured vaguely with the bloodied blade, the red gleaming in the light. "At this rate, you won't last an hour."

Ryan shook his head firmly, jaw set, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath. "No. No, I'll last for as long as it takes to see Norris gut you when she finds out you fucked me in her own damn bed."

"Ugh, don't remind me. I mean, I'm almost going to miss you, Ryan." He shrugged, holding the blade as casually as a fork at dinner. "I hate you, but fuck, you knew what you were doing in bed."

Ryan sat back in the chair, his side still throbbing painfully. "You're sick."

"Oh, absolutely." He went back to the table, taking his sweet time. "I'll admit it, Ryan. You impressed me with how you kept this whole lie going for so long."

"It wasn't that long."

"It was long for me." Shane picked up a familiar knife, studying the sharp edge as he wandered back to Ryan. "Because I was wondering how you knew where this was. In my room. In my wardrobe."

Ryan spared him a flicker of a grin, not exactly a kind gesture. "I found it the night I broke into your rooms. Duh. Which you wouldn't remember, because you were too busy being black out drunk since you couldn't fuck me."

Shane stared at him for a long moment before giving a sharp laugh. "God, I'm infuriated yet also indescribably aroused right now."

"So that's your kink, huh? Meeting your match."

"You aren't my match, Ryan. Don't flatter yourself."

"I was right in front of you this whole time, and it took you, what, four days to finally get me?" Ryan laughed derisively, seeing Shane's eyes narrow, the blade lowering. "And everyone is so scared of you. But you're just as easily controlled as everyone else."

"Controlled."

"Manipulated."

"Mm."

"And that's the reason you're just  _so_  angry at me," continued Ryan, ignoring the warning skip of his heart as Shane's face went entirely blank, stoney. "Because now everyone's gonna know that you didn't get me for four long days. Your reputation is gonna be a bit tarnished, isn't it?"

"I'll redeem myself."

"I don't think you will," persisted Ryan, light and patronizing, even as Shane crossed the space between them, all nonchalance replaced with seething rage. "I think you're never gonna live this down. I think you'll never forget how I was the one who ruined your five-star rep."

"Even if I do, you won't be around to fucking see it," said Shane furiously.

"Sure, pal. I'll see you in hell."

Shane suddenly drove the knife down into the back of the chair, right behind Ryan's shoulder. The blade splintered the wood, but Ryan barely flinched, not taking his eyes from the taller man's. His heart thundered in his chest.

"You tell them who sent you," said Shane icily, letting go of the knife, leaving it lodged in the chair. "Bastard."

Ryan let himself close his eyes as the other man turned away, instantly regretting it. He didn't see the punch coming. His head snapped aside, fingers automatically clenching into fists, ready for retaliation. Shane shook out his gloved hand, already turning away again, vanishing into the shadows on the outskirts of the room. Ryan swallowed hard, wondering exactly what was coming for him now. Would it be Cal? He could still remember the first day he'd met Shane, the man in the basement, the bag over his head, and the screaming. Ryan saw a lighter flare up, Shane's sharp features illuminated for a split second in the shadows. Then he watched the taller man saunter into view, one gloved hand holding a jug of water and a cloth, the other holding the lit cigarette. He came to a halt in front of him, looking down his nose at the shorter man.

"I'm gonna ask you some questions now, Ryan. If you don't mind."

Ryan stared at the water. A jug had never seemed so terrifying in his life. "Questions?"

"Mm. So just sit back, and relax." Shane placed the cigarette in his mouth, clamping the cloth over Ryan's mouth and nose, hard enough to force his head back. His other hand raised the jug, seeing Ryan's eyes widen. "Or just sit back, anyway."

* * *

"Never?"

"Never."

"Not once?"

"Nope."

Banjo sighed wearily into his whiskey. "So you don't feel any romantic or sexual attraction to anyone ever?"

Horsley shook her head, rolling her eyes. "You ask me this every time you're drunk, Bernard. After you ask me to marry you."

"I'm a fool for you, Holly."

"You're a fool in general, Bernard."

They were both so enthralled in their usual drunken conversation that they didn't even notice the hush fall over the room, spreading from the main doors outward, like a wave. They only noticed the silence once the click of heels rang out, steady, angry, getting louder and louder. Banjo stumbled slightly as he went to turn around, readjusting his hat on his head. The crowd were all watching the same thing, moving through them, carving a path. 

"You absolute idiots."

Horsley swallowed the rest of her drink once she heard the voice, eyebrows raised as she turned away. "Oh shit."

"How dare you." Norris came to a halt in front of them, hands on her hips, her all-white outfit stark against her black skin. "How  _dare_  you."

Banjo hesitantly raised his glass. "Welcome home?"

"How DARE you," repeated Norris, clearly livid. "How dare you hold a party like this without me."

Horsley paused, sharing a quick but confused look with Banjo. "Huh?"

"How often, hm?" Norris tapped her foot impatiently, oblivious to the watching crowd. "Every time I'm away, is it? When the dog's away, the cats will play?"

"Well... Yeah. I guess."

"I  _told_  you I was home today. Specifically. And you have the party anyway?"

"You were home  _today_?" Banjo raised his bushy eyebrows at Horsley, who shrugged. "To be quite honest, Fran, we've been on a complete bender almost every day since you left."

"Well get me a goddamn drink," she ordered, putting a hand out to the side. Someone placed a glass of champagne in it. "Thank you. And continue."

And just like that, it did. As if she paused and unpaused the world. Banjo peered over her head, a frown on his face.

"Who's that?"

Norris glanced behind her, eyebrows raised. "Oh, that's Carlos Oliveira. The dealer I was dealing to."

"He looks like a very dodgy priest."

"He is. He sells arms."

"Oh. Yeah."

Norris glanced around at the milling crowd, all glitz and glam and greed. "Where's Madej? And where's Ryan?"

Horsley and Banjo shared a quick look, speaking simultaneously. "Outside." "Dead."

Norris looked from one to the other, a suspicious brow arched. "Right. I guess I'll find out myself."

Carlos Oliveira joined her, heading out towards the front gardens, where cars were practically stacked on each other. Norris returned the hellos and other greetings aimed at her, but she didn't take any of them in. Not even the shadowy figure who lurked behind a tree on the outskirts, planning on making their way into the crowd.

* * *

Ryan flew forwards in the chair, coughing violently, the water dripping steadily off his face, from his mouth. He didn’t sit up for a long moment, fists clenched, shoulders heaving.

“Where did Steven go?” asked Shane again, crouching down in front of him, elbows resting on his knees. He flicked the ash off his cigarette. “Why did Tinsley send you?”

Ryan raised his head slightly, his eyes appearing again, dark and furious. “Fuck you.”

“Hm.” Shane straightened up, taking hold of Ryan firmly by the jaw as he did so, pulling him back upright. “Alright.”

Shane held the cigarette between his teeth as he poured the ice cold contents of the jug directly down onto Ryan’s face, still holding the shorter man tightly by the jaw. He didn’t stop until the jug had emptied. Sara watched from her own seat beside the table, head resting in her hand, still wearing her sparkly dress. The party upstairs had gotten a bit too wild for her liking.

Spluttering harshly, Ryan went to double over again, his face coming into contact with Shane’s body instead. He panted for air, face pressed against Shane’s stomach, eyes squeezed shut. Shane ran a hand through the man’s wet hair, almost fondly.

“Just answer the question,” said Shane lightly, holding Ryan’s head against his body like a lover would. He nodded at Sara to come over. “And this stops.”

“I- I can’t-” Ryan cursed as he was shoved back in the seat, his fingers gripping the arms of the chair hard as the wet cloth was pulled back over his nose and mouth by Shane's little helper. “No, no no, wait, I-”

Shane ignored these mumblings, circling the chair, watching every movement of Ryan’s body, every twist and turn and struggle as Sara poured the refilled jug. She went to stop, continuing as Shane gave a little shake of his head.  _Break this fucker_. The water splashed loudly to the wooden floor, endless. Until Shane raised a finger, and it stopped.

Ryan basically collapsed forwards against the arm of the chair, head ducked as he spewed water from his nose, his mouth, his shoulders wracking. He flinched as Shane placed a hand softly on the side of his face, turning it to look directly up at him. His eyes were wide with fright as he swallowed.

“Come on, Ryan.” Shane placed a hand on the arm of the chair, leaning down to look the man right in the eye. “Just tell me. Or I can make this last all day, every day until Norris gets back.”

Ryan’s lip curled with hatred, his breathing harsh and heavy. “It’ll be worth it. Just to know what Norris is going to do to you when she finds out you fucked me.”

“And you think she’ll let you away without a scratch?” Shane shook his head almost pitifully, straightening back up. “Fucking isn’t a one-person activity, Ryan.” He lowered his voice. “Anyway _,_ I don’t think you could convince Norris that I forced you to get on me and ride me like a-”

“You don’t know what I could convince her to do,” replied Ryan savagely, pulling forwards against his restraints. “I-”

The slap hit him hard across the face, a stinging backhand, snapping his head aside. Ryan took a moment to compose himself, his cheek stinging like it had been whipped.

“Don’t interrupt me,” said Shane dismissively, stepping around the chair. “It’s rude.”

Ryan closed his eyes, still breathing heavily, the anger broiling in his stomach. “God, when I get my hands on you. I'm gonna make you swallow your words, and your fucking teeth with them."

“Ugh, stop.” Shane appeared on his other side, taking in the view of Ryan’s wet body, the shirt stuck to him, the furious spark in the shorter man’s eye, his jaw clenched. “I’m already too horny to function.”

Ryan suddenly spat at him, Shane raising a disgusted eyebrow in response. “Fuck you.”

“Right. If you want to play brave, let’s get the ball rolling.” He nodded at Sara again. The cloth went back over Ryan’s nose and mouth.

Ryan fought desperately against his restraints, fists clenched, hips bucking off the chair as he attempted to stand up, to get as far away from the icy water as possible. It felt like it was filling his entire head, leaving him choking painfully. He tried to shake his head in an attempt to get the cloth, the water, off him, but Sara was holding his head back firmly by his jaw. He tried to kick out, to scream, to beg for this to stop, his chest heaving erratically. And Shane simply observed from a foot away, not a shred of empathy in his eyes.

Ryan doubled over with such vigor the chair screeched forwards, the water spluttering from his nose and mouth, splashing to the wet floor. He was visibly shaking, breaths raspy and pained. He didn’t raise his head.

Shane crouched down in front of him, Ryan’s ducked head still hiding his face. Water was still dripping off his nose, his lips. “You know I don’t want to hurt you, baby. If you tell me the truth right now, I can make this stop.”

Ryan braced himself for his next movement, fists clenched painfully tight. He shook his head.

Shane rested his elbows on Ryan’s knees, giving Sara a casual nod. And it started again. Ryan’s muffled choking was barely audible above the splashing, his body attempting to flee, to push off the chair, instead doing nothing but writhing desperately as the water ran down him, slick and smooth. Shane rested his chin on his hand, taking in the view, the soaked shirt emphasizing every move of every muscle. He traced a finger down the center of Ryan’s chest, down the center of his stomach, the muscles screaming under his hand.  He nodded for Sara to stop.

“FUCK!” spluttered Ryan instantly, doubling over yet again, his stomach beginning to hurt from the repeated movement. His head landed on Shane’s shoulder, where he panted for air, trembling violently. “Stop.  _Please_ , stop. I can’t- I can’t-”

“Shh.” Shane ran a hand through the man’s hair, cradling his head against his shoulder. He could feel Ryan’s shaky breath against his neck. “Shh. No point in trying to get me to do anything. You’re doing this to yourself.”

“Shane, please.” The man’s voice was weak, cracking with the last word. “I just- Please. Please, stop.” Another gasped breath. “I’m begging you.”

“I know you are.” He shrugged, pushing Ryan back in the chair. “But that doesn’t give me any answers.”

“I don’t have any answers,” said Ryan with wide eyes, fingers splayed against the arms of the chair. “I swear, I don’t know!”

Shane gave him an almost pitying look, head resting on his hand. “Look, Ryan. Fair play to you. You’re still lying to me after twenty minutes. But I want the truth, and I’ll go to some serious lengths to get it. Alright?”

Ryan turned his head aside, still panting for breath, eyes closed. “So what’re you gonna do? Keep me down here indefinitely?”

“Seems like it.” Shane shrugged, absent-mindedly tracing his fingers down the sides of Ryan’s ribs, down his waist. “And I’ve had time to think, little guy. Think about what to do to you.”

The dread rose up through Ryan’s chest sickeningly fast, making him swallow hard to keep it in. “I don’t know anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Shane stayed silent for a moment, watching him. “You poor fool.” He straightened back up again, noticing Ryan’s entire body tense, his head staying ducked aside. "I'll give you some time to think about your choices here. And I want you to think hard about them. Really hard."

Already turning away, Shane nodded at Sara, strolling back towards the door with his hands in his pockets. Better pop upstairs, make a quick appearance before someone came looking for them, before someone gave Ryan a chance to explain himself. The elevator doors swished shut. Ryan slumped back in the chair, head tilted back as he panted for breath, his mind racing, heart thumping, sickeningly fast. He turned his head, eyes landing on the knife still stuck in the back of the chair. He took hold of it with his teeth, and pulled it out.

* * *

Shane rolled his eyes as he stepped out of the elevator back into the basement, slipping his gloves back on as he did so. "You are one lucky man, Ryan Bergara. Norris is back, so your death is gonna have to be quick..."

His sentence trailed off as he saw the chair in the center of the room. It was tipped onto its side, the ropes that had been around Ryan's wrists now a few feet away. He paused, eyes wide, every sense already on edge. He breathed a word.

"Fuck."

Apart from the light hanging from the ceiling, there was no other light in the room. Shane turned his head aside, listening hard. He didn’t speak. There was no way he could talk his way out of what Ryan was probably intending to do, anyway. And all he had on him was the small blade. The rest of the knives lay on the table, in the light. Where Ryan would be able to see him. He could probably see him anyway, in his white shirt. Shane began slowly backing towards the elevator, eyes darting around him constantly. He was a bit screwed. He knew that.

His hand brushed the elevator button, pressing it slowly, softly.  _Please hurry up. Please hurry the fuck up._

The quick flurry of movement wasn’t enough of a warning. Ryan used the wall as a propellant, firing off it, his knee connecting with Shane's chest with enough impact to break down a door. They landed heavily on the floor, Shane's head hitting back off it, forcing a breathless curse from his mouth. Ryan's knee slid off his chest, Shane flipped them, feeling Ryan's legs remain fixed around his waist. He planted his hands on the ground, pushing back, managing to get to one knee in a surprising display of strength. Ryan still sat around his waist, one hand holding the other man by the throat, the other trying to bring the knife down into his eye. Shane's hand gripped his wrist, struggling to hold the blade away, both of their arms trembling with the strain. 

"Don't prolong this for yourself, Shane." Ryan spoke through gritted teeth, the blade inching ever closer to its target. "Just... Just let me... kill you... nice and neat."

"That's not the way I want to go," replied Shane just as roughly, feeling the other man's breath against his face, harsh and rapid. "When I die, it's gonna be in a blaze of glory. So sorry about  _that_ -"

He grabbed hold of Ryan's side where the wound was, digging his fingers in, feeling Ryan's sharp gasp. The hand abandoned Shane's throat, whipping back to grab hold of the offending hold on his side. But to Shane's surprise, Ryan didn't scream, or make any sound at all. Just shaky breaths, a high-pitched gasp if the grip was changed at all. Even as the shirt grew damp again, with warm blood instead of icy water, Ryan didn't respond to the pain. 

"You think this is the worst thing I've been through?" asked Ryan, his voice strained. "I'm gonna take you apart with a rusty fucking spoon."

"Imaginative," said Shane, the word growled through clenched teeth. He could feel himself being forced backwards, his back beginning to hurt as Ryan pushed against him.

Ryan suddenly slipped sideways, taking Shane with him, the two of them locked together as they rolled across the floor. Ryan landed on top, knees skidding on the ground with the momentum, a hand shoved in Shane's face, pushing his head back, baring his throat for the knife he was still fighting to drive into the other man. He took hold of Shane's other hand, pinning it to the floor, their fingers interlocked. Ryan allowed the knife to drop, catching hold of Shane's other hand in the same manner, slamming it to the floor on the other side of his head. They stared at each other, panting for breath, both in varying amounts of pain. 

Shane let his head fall back against the wood, letting out a sharp breath. “Huh. This reminds me of last night.”

“Oh, does it?” Ryan tightened his grip on the other man’s hands, sitting back across his hips. “Was that not more like  _this_?”

Shane went to try and sit upright as the shorter man moved his hips in a slow circle, the black shirt clinging to his body, making Shane’s pulse pick up. He gritted his teeth in a bitter smile. “Ha. You’re sick.”

“You have no idea.” Ryan moved himself forwards along the taller man’s torso, placing a knee on each of his shoulders. He felt Shane’s fingers dig into the back of his hands. “You were pushing me there for a while, big guy. Made me break character a few times.”

Shane smiled at him, a wry one, flexing his gloved fingers as Ryan finally let go of his hands. “I wanted to break more than just your character.”

Ryan returned the dry smile. “Yeah. You really wanted to break my bed last night, it seemed.”

Shane laughed sharply, finding the act of breathing a bit difficult with Ryan sitting across his chest. “You know, you’re funny, Ryan. Norris doesn’t appreciate what she’s got.”

“Aw. You’re so sweet.” Ryan reached behind him without taking his eyes off Shane’s, searching for the man’s belt. “Let me just have a quick looksie here.”

Shane gritted his teeth as the hand palmed him through his trousers, making him turn his hips aside, face flushing with heat. “Jesus. You’re more fucked up than I am.”

“You don’t like that?”

“I don’t like the way I like it.”

Ryan grinned down at him, finally taking the small blade from Shane’s belt. He brought it around, pressing it into Shane's cheek, shaving off a small section of beard it was so sharp. “I’ll distract you, then.”

Shane bucked his hips up, fists clenched as he tried to free his arms, teeth gritted. Ryan’s hands landed on the cold floor either side of his head as he fell forwards, but his knees stayed on Shane’s shoulders, pinning him in place. Ryan simply sat back, forcing Shane's body back to the floor.

“Where to start.” Ryan let the blade hover over the other man’s wide-eyed glare, his other hand softly caressing his face. “You know, I always thought I’d start with your stupid pointy nose, but I actually like it now. It’s endearing.”

Shane let out a quiet breath. “Wow. I’m flattered.”

“You’re welcome.” Ryan let the blade wander lower, drifting across the other man’s throat. “But I’ve never been one for torture. Lucky for you.” He shrugged lightly. “Guess I’ll just cut your throat and let you choke on your own blood. Would you like that?”

Shane rolled his eyes. “Yeah. As if you would.”

Ryan frowned at this. “Uh, I would. And I will.”

“You can’t, Ryan. You think you’re the good guy in this scenario, and that I’m the big bad villain.” Shane snorted. “Newsflash, asshole. We’re both the bad guys.”

“Alright then.” Ryan took the knife away, reaching aside, driving it straight down into the wooden floor. It went through glove and hand like butter.

“AAAAAAAAH!” Shane’s scream pierced the air. He struggled furiously under him, hand blazing with pain, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving as he panted for breath. He could feel the warm blood leaking from his hand, getting caught in his glove, spreading onto the wood floor. “FUCK! FUCK YOU!”

Ryan took a knee off the man’s shoulder, seeing as his hand was now quite literally pinned to the floor. “How about I ask  _you_  some questions instead?”

“Fuck you,” panted Shane, pale, a sheen of sweat on his face, his neck. “God, I’m gonna fucking kill you. I’m going to  _kill_ you.”

"What's the deal with Carlos Oliveira?" demanded Ryan, picking up the other knife, holding it ready. "Why are you defending him?"

Shane glared at him, still breathing heavily, unable to move his arm without a blaze of pain exploding in his hand. "What the fuck are you talking about? How do you know about Carlos Oliveira?"

"Goldsworth told me."

"Why?"

"Because-" Ryan paused, rolling his eyes. "I'm asking the questions here, Madej."

Shane gave a breathless laugh. "Yeah, you're doing a fantastic job. Keep up the good work."

"Why is he so important?" Ryan took hold of Shane by the throat, leaning forwards so their faces were inches apart. "Why are you protecting him?"

"He's not important," replied Shane just as heatedly. "And I'm not fucking protecting him. My job's to protect Norris, and that's it."

"Then why are you trying to kill me?"

"Because you're trying to kill Norris!"

Ryan's breathing slowed, a frown flickering across his face as he searched the other man's eyes. "What?"

"Horsley told me _you're_ the hitman here to kill Norris." Shane squeezed his eyes shut as he accidentally moved his arm, a hissed curse escaping him. "Shit. Fuck your life."

"I'm not trying to kill Norris," said Ryan firmly. "I'm trying to kill Oliveira."

"Bullshit."

"If I wanted to kill Norris," said Ryan slowly, like he was speaking to a five-year-old. "I would've done it ages ago. You idiot."

Shane went quiet, eyes narrowed. "Then-"

"If Norris dies, Tinsley's out of business," said Ryan, interrupting him. "So why the fuck would I be trying to kill her?"

Shane didn't speak for a long moment. "You're not the hitman."

"I am a hitman."

"Yeah, yeah, you're _a_ hitman, but you're not _the_ hitman." Another wince as his hand burned. "Jesus fucking Christ." He waited for the pain to die down, even a bit. "There's someone here to kill Norris. There's someone else here to kill her, you have to let me up."

Ryan didn't reply, lowering the knife. "What are you talking about?"

"Horsley said there's a hitman arriving tonight for Norris! Let me go!" 

Ryan shook his head with a sharp laugh. "Yeah right."

"Who the fuck do you think called while we were screwing? It was Horsley!" Shane suddenly looked all too innocent, and it was the most sincere look Ryan had ever witnessed on his face. "Ryan, if Norris dies, I die, and if Tinsley goes out of business-"

"He'll kill me," whispered Ryan, still searching the other man's eyes for any sign of a lie. "We'll both die."

"Well, I don't care if _you_ die. I care if _I_ die."

Ryan hesitated before tucking the knife into his belt, eyes narrowing at the other man. "So what are you proposing here."

"I'm proposing that you let me up so I can save my life." Shane smiled at him. "Pretty please?"

Ryan sat back, still watching him warily. "As long as you let me help you."

Shane snorted. "Yeah, fuck you, pal."

"I'll tell Norris I was sent by Tinsley to save her." Ryan shrugged. "She'll give him some sort of reward, and I'll look great."

Shane pondered this, biting his lip distractedly. He could say yes, and have a valuable ally for the next few hours, or he could say no, and die horribly. "I agree to this."

"I thought you would." Ryan reached over, yanking the knife from the floor, ignoring Shane's flurry of curses throw at him. "Come on, then. And don't even think about stabbing me in the back here. Literally or figuratively."

Shane pushed himself into a sitting position as Ryan got off him, holding his injured hand to his chest, adding yet more blood to the white fabric. "This shirt is ruined now. You owe me a new shirt."

"It's all your own blood. You ruined your own shirt."

Shane scowled at the back of his head, using his good hand to push himself to his feet. Ryan stood a few feet away, buttoning up his still-damp shirt, glaring at him. Shane glared back, holding his injured hand reproachfully. 

"I don't know why you're looking at me like that," said Ryan, giving the wound in his side a quick check. It had stopped bleeding for now, but it was still painful. "It's not as if I'm going to say sorry."

"You hurt me more than I hurt you."

"You waterboarded me for a solid hour, you dick," replied Ryan fiercely, moving for the elevator. 

"You know," began Shane, a finger raised as he followed him. "Waterboarding isn't actually classified as torture. So there."

Ryan stepped into the elevator, giving him a flat look. "Everyone knows it's torture. So shut up."

Shane hit the shorter man's hand away from the buttons, pressing the one just above the basement. "Are you stupid? You need to slap a bandage on, and so do I."

"Wimp."

"Fuck you."

"I could still kill you at any time, big guy," said Ryan lightly, staring straight ahead at the doors, arms folded. "Don't forget that."

"Oh, and find the hitman yourself?" Shane rolled his eyes as he leaned back against the wall, gripping the bar behind him. "Yeah, I'd love to see that."

"Meaning?"

"You wouldn't be able to see over the crowd."

Ryan closed his eyes as the taller man started laughing at his own joke, sighing heavily. "God, I hate you."


	9. Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"This is the problem with making a thing forbidden. It does nothing but build an ache in the heart."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/1Yy2kI70glc 
> 
> shane, ryan, and cal in this chapter (as a vine)
> 
> also had to add an extra chapter because i never actually plan out my fics at all in case yall haven't noticed...... which is v unlikely lmaO  
> also also, i didnt proofread so oops

Shane continued wrapping the fabric around his hand, knowing full well the wound needed stitches and legit medical attention. Which could wait. Hopefully. He rolled his eyes as he heard the disapproving ‘tut’ again, letting his gaze land on the source of the sound.

“What?” he demanded, looking at Ryan, who was leaning back against the wall, arms folded across his chest. “Why are you tutting like an old woman?”

“Because you’re doing a shit job.” Ryan shrugged. “I mean, you’re just stopping it bleeding. It’s still going to get worse if you just bandage them like that.”

Shane stayed sitting down, raising both his bandaged hands with just a bit of attitude. “Both of these are because of you. I’ve never had hand injuries before. So fuck yourself.”

Ryan crossed over to him, pulling his hand forward, the one he’d put a knife right through. As least the blade had been a sliver of metal, not big enough to rupture any major veins. He unwrapped the fabric, ignoring Shane’s hissed curses and threats.

“If you’re bandaging a hand, you might as well bind your knuckles while you’re at it.” Ryan crouched down in front of him, turning the man’s hand so that his palm faced the ceiling. “Hand me some gauze, would you?”

Shane did so, frowning at the demanding tone. “Here. Now hurry up, we don’t have all night.”

Ryan pulled his hand forwards with a bit more force than necessary, Shane being yanked forwards a bit with it. “You start at your wrist. And you wrap it around your wrist - keep it steady, for fuck’s sake, or it won’t stay tight - and then you bring it up…”

Shane watched the other man’s hands work quickly, his glower slowly disappearing as he watched Ryan tucking the bandage around expertly, giving it a tight pull at the end, making Shane wince. Ryan put a hand out for Shane’s other hand, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

“It feels weird,” muttered Shane, wiggling the fingers of the now-properly-bandaged hand as he put his other one forwards. “Feels tight.”

“Yeah, so you don’t break any bones if you punch someone tonight.” Ryan pulled a face as he unwrapped the other hand. “Jesus. You’re a walking blood infection waiting to happen.”

“Oh get over it, Bergara. Just fix me up.” He scowled at him. “It’s not even that bad.”

“Have you changed it at all?”

“Nope.”

“You’re meant to change it every couple of hours, you tool.” Ryan continued angrily wrapping up the other hand, slipping the fabric between each long finger, nice and firm. “You know, if anyone knew just how disorganized you  _really_  are, you’d be fucked.”

“Blah blah blah.” Shane looked at his bound hands, nodding in approval. “Alright, yeah. This looks cool.”

“I know, right?”

"I feel like- like I could punch God in the face."

Ryan straightened back up again, hands on his hips. "Well you punch like a sissy anyway, so-"

He was cut off as Shane instantly punched him in the stomach, making the shorter man stumble backwards, cursing as he doubled over. He got to his feet, flexing his fingers. "Yeah, that does feel better!"

Ryan scowled at him, a hand on his injured side. "Watch it, Madej."

"Oh boo hoo." Shane stepped around him, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. "Now come on."

"Are you serious?" Ryan followed him across the small room, back towards the main corridor that lead to the elevator. "We can't wander into a party looking like we do if we're trying to lay low."

"I'm not trying to lay low," shrugged Shane, striding down the hall, hearing the hurried footsteps behind him. "Everyone knows who I am. And to be honest, it'd be more suspicious if I  _didn't_  have blood all over me."

"Remind me of something here," said Ryan, stepping into the elevator after him, standing in front of the buttons to prevent them from being pressed. "Who's the top-class hitman out of the two of us?" He raised a hand to stop the other man from interrupting. " _Who_  is the one who infiltrated your organization and got all the way to the tippy-top?"

"And then came crashing right back down again at my hands? That would be you, Ryan."

"I wouldn't quite say 'crashing down'. If we hadn't copped the miscommunication, I would've killed you right then." Ryan glanced behind him, hitting the button for the eighth floor. Shane's rooms. "We're changing."

"You do understand that this is a time-sensitive mission, right?" Shane reached around to hit the first floor, not quite making it as Ryan grabbed his wrist, holding his hand away. "I'm not changing."

"Yes you are."

Shane wrenched his hand away, turning to study himself in the mirrored wall. He tucked his rumpled, bloody shirt into his trousers, spreading his arms. "There."

Ryan rolled his eyes, just visible behind him in the reflection. "You look like shit."

"Excuse me?"

Ryan looked him up and down, at the tousled hair, the unbuttoned collar, the cocky tilt of the taller man's hips as he waited for some response. "Actually, to me, you look pretty hot like that. I gotta admit."

Shane half-turned to grin at him, an eyebrow raised. "Well, Ryan. You still want it, do you?"

"I didn't say that."

"Because I definitely don't want it anymore," replied Shane, leaning back against the wall. He smirked as Ryan raised his eyebrows doubtfully at this. "I preferred it when you weren't so mouthy."

"I remember you loving it when I was mouthy."

"Depends on the context."

Ryan shrugged, one arm behind his back, holding his other arm. A stance much too lax for Shane's liking. "So you don't like it when I talk back, is that it?"

"That's it exactly."

The doors swished open, revealing the eighth floor, marble hallway clean and shining. The music from the party sounded distant, like it was underwater. Shane followed the shorter man out, stretching leisurely as he walked at his shoulder. 

"Actually wait." Ryan paused at the door to Shane's rooms, hands on his hips. "I'm just- You seriously don't want to fuck me anymore."

"Seriously," lied Shane, taking the master key from his pocket, unlocking the door. "I'm sorry if that's the first time you've heard that."

"That is the first time I've heard that." Ryan was already pulling off his shirt as he followed him in, heading right over to the bedroom. The bandage on his side was stained a bit pink, blood from the cut underneath. "I'm a bit dubious that you mean it at all, though."

Shane followed him, turning on the low light. The sheets were still a wild tangle from their activities, lust in an image. Ryan sat down on the bed, leaning back, smiling as he saw Shane pause in turning away, eyes lingering on the shorter man. A king and his kingdom, efficiently conquered. Shane began unbuttoning his own shirt, lowering his gaze. He cleared his throat. He reached into the drawers, taking out a white shirt, tossing it back at Ryan. Ryan caught it, still grinning.

"There. Put that on." 

"You're a big liar." Ryan shrugged the fresh shirt on, feeling appropriately smug. "You  _do_  still want me."

"If it means that much to you, yeah, I still want to fuck you." Shane did up his own navy shirt, tucking his black gloves into his belt. "But I'll be glad to be rid of you anyway."

Ryan got to his feet, rolling up his sleeves, freeing his hands from any possible barriers. "Aw. Sweet."

Shane rolled his eyes, taking out a gun, holding it like he was weighing it. What he was really weighing was the decision in his head.  _Give Ryan a gun, and get a valuable ally, since you're both actually trying to do the same thing here. Or give Ryan a gun, and he might decide to get rid of you anyway_. Shane half-turned, holding the gun out. Ryan took it.

"I- Oh, thank you. For giving me back my gun." Ryan threw him a flat look. "And I would've had an abundance of my own weapons, but  _someone_  decided to clear them out. I'm guessing."

"Quit bitching."

Shane headed back out into the sitting room, over to the tank. Ryan watched from a distance as Cal emerged from the dark leaves, sliding up Shane's arm, disappearing under his sleeve. The taller man threw him an absent-minded look.

"You have blood on your face."

Ryan watched him come closer, backing up a step. "The snake, dude. Watch the snake."

"She won't bite."

"Yes she will!"

"She  _won't_. Trust me."

Ryan burst out laughing, still backing up. " _Trust_  you? Are you serious?"

Shane threw his hands up in the air, sighing wearily. "Fine. Fine, wipe it off yourself."

"You were gonna wipe it off for me, huh?"

Shane grinned at him, openly amused. "I'm actually a very kind man once you get on my good side, Ryan."

"And I'm on your good side, am I?" asked Ryan dryly, arms folded across his chest as he looked up at him. "I don't know what to think about that."

"You're not quite on it yet, Bergara." Shane paused at his shoulder, letting his gaze flicker up and down the shorter man's face. "But impress me tonight, and we'll see."

Ryan followed him back out the door, letting the taller man close it behind them, locking it. Then they continued back towards the elevator, their simultaneous footsteps showing the first ever coordination between the two. Ryan let his gaze linger on the taller man's shirt sleeve, where the snake slept. He glanced up at Shane's grin.

"She won't bite you," said Shane, allowing him into the elevator first, hitting the first floor. "She's not stupid."

Ryan rolled his eyes, staying facing the doors. It felt weird to have Shane standing at his shoulder, tall and imposing, and for once not trying to kill him. Or fuck him. "Where did you even find that demon?"

"At a pet store. Duh."

"Oh, they have a section labelled 'murderous reptiles'?"

Shane shrugged. "Yeah, you're right. I found her in the trash. She tried to bite me, and I tried to shoot her a few times, and then we reached a plane of mutual understanding."

Ryan paused, one eye narrowed slightly. "I can't... tell if you're lying or not."

"Good."

The sounds of the party got louder and louder, and for once, it didn't get either of them excited. They checked their respective guns were loaded, their other weapons appropriately concealed, one just as casual as the other. Ryan glanced at the gloves that were passed to him, throwing a curious look up at the taller man.

"I can't wear them with the bandages," said Shane with a shrug, not looking at him as he spoke. "And they come in handy."

"Handy. I get it." Ryan took them as the taller man spared him a chuckle, slipping them into his own belt. "Thanks. I guess."

"Don't rip them. They were expensive."

The doors slid open, right onto the party. The crowd filled the room, and what was visible of other rooms through the few large doors dotted around the walls. Ryan and Shane stood in the doorway to the elevator for a long moment, both scanning the bustling, hazy crowd. Shane swiped a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, downing it before Ryan could slap it away.

"Don't drink on the job, you idiot."

"Respect my work ethic, Ryan." He tossed the glass aside, not a single head turning as it shattered on the marble. "Now let's find this guy."

"Or girl."

" _Or_  girl." He pulled a face as he followed the shorter man into the crowd. "Yikes. I hope it's not a girl. They're way scarier."

"I know, right?"

Ryan paved the way, carving a path for the human watchtower behind him. He was looking for someone sober. Someone sober, and unfamiliar. So definitely not Banjo, who stumbled into their vicinity, a pint of red wine in hand. He attempted to speak, and although his gestures were altogether quite knowledgeable, the words were indecipherable. Ryan had his mouth open, eyes narrowed as he struggled to understand the other man's slurring, made all the more difficult over the roaring of the surrounding crowd.

"Shut up, Banjo," snapped Shane over the shorter man's head. "Jesus, you're gonna give yourself alcohol poisoning."

"Shane, my boy." Banjo didn't even cast a glance at the wine that sloshed over the edge of his glass, splashing across the white marble like blood. "Dance with me."

"Fuck you." Shane shoved at Ryan to keep going. "C'mon. Don't encourage him when he's like this."

She appeared almost right in their line of sight, still dressed to the nines in white, somehow still unstained. Norris had caught up with the rest quite quickly indeed, dancing without a care in the world, champagne hopping out of her glass. Ryan dragged Shane towards her, pushing the stumbling drunkards aside.

"Norris!" he shouted, having to get right in her face. "Norris, I-"

"Oh  _baby_." She pulled him in, arms draped around his shoulders, planting a drunken kiss on his lips. "Mm, you're looking good. I missed you."

He returned the smile hesitantly. "Yeah, I, uh, missed you too."

Shane watched from a foot way, the conversation making him feel a tiny bit uncomfortable. Norris was entirely unaware. Unaware as to the fact that the man she was currently embracing had been his for the past few nights, few days. It had been hard to distinguish between the different times when he and Ryan had been wrapped up in each other. And with Norris now back, Shane experienced a strange sinking feeling in his chest. An acknowledgement that his wild fling with his employer's paramour was now at an end. He turned his head aside.

"Why so blue?" smiled Norris, giving his arm a light slap, her other arm still hooked around Ryan. "What's got you down, huh?"

"Business," he replied quickly, avoiding Ryan's eyes. "There's someone here for you."

"Ugh, there always is." She rolled her dark eyes, resting her head on Ryan's chest. "Sniff them out for me, would you, honey?"

Shane nodded, already turning away. "Yeah."

"What happened to your hands?" 

He paused, looking at his bandaged hands, still painful, though it felt dull now. "Oh, just the usual."

Ryan watched him disappear into the crowd. Well, maybe not disappear. His thick head of hair was still visible above the rest, growing distant as he moved towards the gardens, muttering to whatever staff members along the way. Spreading the message. _Keep an eye out for any unfamiliar faces, and let me know_. Ryan hesitated, wanting to go after him. To help. He'd finally gotten a reminder of what his job usually was; action, excitement, heart-pumping adrenaline rushes. And now? He was finding it a bit difficult to consider going back to pretending to be Norris' hubby. 

"Do you want a drink?" asked Ryan, still looking at Shane's tall figure as it vanished into the darkness outside. "I'll get us drinks."

Whether or not Norris heard him, she didn't make it clear. So he took off after Shane, ducking through the crowd, beginning to let himself grow a little wary. A lot of these people had guns. A hell of a lot. But it must just be the sort of people Norris associated with. She was an arms dealer, after all. She'd probably dealt all these people their weaponry. So he kept going.

"Shane?" He slipped outside, closing over the small glass door behind him. "Shane, you out here?"

He was impossible to see, until his hand came into view, holding a cigarette that looked like a floating light in the dark. "What?"

"I'm going to help you," said Ryan, coming closer. "Duh."

"No you're not." Shane moved towards him, the light from inside falling across his face in a wide golden bar. "You're gonna head back in there and kill that Carlos guy. Like you said you had to."

Ryan frowned at this. "Why would you let me do that?"

"He doesn't matter to me. He doesn't matter at all, really. None of us do." Shane shrugged. "And when you kill him, you can finally piss off. I'll even let you walk straight out the front door."

"How sweet of you." Ryan searched the taller man's eyes, smelling the night air, the smoke. "What was my other option."

Shane was quiet for a long moment. "You wouldn't have left at all. Not for quite a while. And if you did it was going to be in pieces."

"Yikes." Ryan raised his eyebrows. "Graphic."

"Mm." Shane looked down at him from under heavy lids, pensive. "Maybe we'll meet again. Sometime in the future."

"Hopefully not. I don't see us ending up on the same side."

"Fair." Shane waited for him to say something. Anything. "Well goodbye, then."

Ryan didn't look away. "Bye."

He finally turned back towards the party, feeling a little bummed out. Which was ridiculous. How could he even consider missing Shane? Maybe it wasn't Shane himself he was going to miss. Maybe it was the danger, and the excitement, and the tension, and their nights shared together. His thoughts were swiftly interrupted as a hand grabbed his arm, pulling him back, Shane's other hand slipping up through his hair as he kissed him hard. Ryan hooked an arm around the taller man's neck, their bodies flush together as they held onto their last few minutes together. Their mouths worked against each other, passionate, heated, unwilling to stop anytime soon. But they had to. Ryan let his hands slide down to rest on the taller man's chest, head ducked, feeling Shane's own hands holding his waist tight. He tore himself away, pacing away, the glass door closing loudly behind him.

Shane remained outside, half-turned away, his moody gaze following Ryan as the other man slipped away into the crowd. There was nothing like saying goodbye to a perfect enemy. When would he meet someone who matched him move for move like Ryan did? He stalked off with a scowl, bandaged hands in his pockets. Now he just had to wait. Wait for one of the staff to slink up to him and tell him who to kill. 

"Hey, you!"

Shane turned at the familiar voice, still glaring. "What?"

It was the woman. The woman who'd wanted champagne. "What's your deal, huh?"

He continued staring at her, suddenly feeling a bit on edge. It was just them in this small section of garden. A place just on the outskirts of witnesses. "My deal?"

"Yeah. I saw your name badge. Madej."

Shane saw her ruffling in her bag, his eyes narrowing. She didn't appear that drunk after all. "What the fuck are you-"

She took the gun out and fired it simultaneously. The bullet went clean through his shoulder, sending him stumbling backwards, crying out in pain. The next shot hit him in the side, pain exploding through his body. He forced himself to stumble into the foliage, the closest cover, his bandaged hands suddenly growing a lot bloodier as he clamped them over his side. _Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._ He could hear her follow, like a predator after its prey. He was screwed. His shirt was growing wet with warm blood, the pain burning, making it hard to focus. He needed help. Now.

"RYAN!"

* * *

Ryan shoved the door open into the gardens, letting it swing closed behind him. He'd heard the gunshots, but at first he hadn't thought anything of it. The people here were just like that. But even through the din, the cried name had reached him, making him pause in the middle of the throng, his head snapping around to look back towards the door. _Shane_.

He pushed through the foliage, the bushes, the low trees, his own gun drawn and ready. He didn't speak. He might just draw whoever had attacked Shane. It took a few minutes, and really, he might not have even noticed him had he not stood on his leg. Shane reached up, grabbing hold of his wrist, his hands slick with blood. Ryan couldn't see the source, but he knew it was coming from the other man. The pained gasps gave this away.

"Ryan." The name was pushed out between gritted teeth, his grip remaining tight on Ryan's arm as the shorter man knelt down. "Bitch shot me. Jesus Christ, she got me, Ryan."

Ryan's hand landed on the hot blood, the wet shirt. "Fuck."

Shane suddenly let out a sharp curse. "Don't fucking touch- Fuck." A shaky inhale. "Get- Tell the others."

"Tell the others what?"

"That I'm fucking _dying_ , you idiot."

Ryan paused, back on one knee. "It's just a shoulder wound."

Shane shook his head, pushing himself more upright against the tree with a muttered curse. "She got me in the side too."

Ryan placed a hand against the relevant area, his face draining of color at the feeling of the saturated shirt. "Uh oh."

"Yeah. Uh oh." 

Ryan hesitated for a moment. Then he started unbuttoning the other man's shirt, quickly, ignoring the protests. The fabric was stuck to the blood. He took out a knife, cutting around it, swift. Then leaned in, examining what he could see in the dark. "It's clean through. I can see where the bullet left."

"Well I can fucking feel it. Hey, what are you doing?" 

Ryan pulled his shirt off over his head, bundling it up, pressing it to the wound. He felt Shane's hand land on his shoulder, fingers digging in. "Keep that there. Put pressure on it."

Shane didn't reply. He was too busy trying not to scream. He just nodded, placing his hand over Ryan's, replacing it.

Ryan straightened up, feeling the warm night air against his skin. Luckily, the party had reached the stage where no one would even think twice about someone walking around shirtless. He wasn't the only one, anyway. He was about to leave when he felt Shane's hand take hold of his, making him turn back around.  

"Ryan, don't- Don't go." Shane's voice was quiet, trembling. Afraid. Maybe even a bit ashamed. "Please. I don't want to die alone."

And for some reason, Ryan couldn't bring himself to leave. Even though Shane was a monster, he still had just enough humanity in him to make Ryan hesitate. Shane was clutching his side, his other hand gripping Ryan's shirt. Ryan looked down at him, feeling surprisingly panicked. Maybe it wasn't Shane's fault he was the way he was. Ryan glanced back at the doors, where Norris and her cronies lived it up inside. _No such thing as a bad pet. Only a bad owner_. 

"No. You want to die in a blaze of glory, isn't that what you said?"

Shane managed a weak smile. "Funny."

Ryan saw the little head peak out from the other man's sleeve, and if a snake could look concerned, this one nailed it. "You're not alone, anyway."

"I guess not."

Ryan crouched back down, looking him in the eye. And for once, there wasn't fuming hatred, or anger, or lust. It was just a scared man. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Just... stay here?"

A strained laugh. "Ow."

Ryan gave the surrounding foliage one last scan, for a gleam of an eye, or a gun. It was clear. He hurried back into the party.

First, he located a bottle of vodka. Then he stole a shirt, shrugging it on as he checked one by one that Norris, Horsley, and McClintock were still intact. They were. They were also blind drunk, shouting and hollering at a poker table. Everyone was blind drunk, actually. Or were they? How many were acting? Ryan slipped over to them, shouting over the noise.

"Shane is in trouble!" he yelled.

Horsley looked at him with bleary eyes. "Well, yeah. I told him that hitman was here for him."

Ryan stared at her. "What? No, the hitman was here for Norris."

Horsley shook her head. "Nah. Here for Shane. My bad."

"Where?" Sara pushed forwards around the occupied Banjo, holding Ryan's arm. "Where is he?"

Ryan was already leaving, letting her follow, stunned at the lack of care any of these people actually had for each other. A pawn gets killed? Buy a new one. He ran back through the crowd towards the gardens. People had started spreading out into them, up to who knew what activities. Ryan quickly located Shane again, seeing that the idiot had moved himself, leaning against the tree, attempting to stand.

"Sit back down, you fucking tool." Ryan paused at the odd look thrown at him, slowing to a halt beside the taller man. "What? What is it?"

"...You actually came back." 

Ryan nodded, Sara lingering a few feet behind him. "Yeah. I said I would."

Shane looked away, hiding his face. "Yeah."

"Sit down, dude." Ryan aided him in doing so, cracking open the vodka, kneeling beside him. "Now this is gonna sting."

He poured the liquid onto each wound, letting Shane almost rip his arm off with each one, cursing everyone and their mothers. Ryan placed his old shirt back over the wound in Shane's side, pressing down.

"Hey. It's actually stopping bleeding." Ryan looked at him again, seeing how pale the other man was. "Also, that hitman for Norris is actually here for you. Thought you should know?"

"What?" Shane squeezed his eyes shut as another stabbing pain went through his shoulder. "Horsley- She said it was for Norris."

"Well she fucked up."

Shane kept his eyes closed, breathing heavily. "This is what happens when you hire fucking alcoholics."

Ryan spared a grin. "Yeah. Norris really chooses them well."

"I hope you're not including me in that."

"I most definitely am."

"Or me," muttered Sara, hands on her hips.

The click of a gun being cocked made them freeze, Ryan turning his head to see what Shane was staring at. She stood about a meter away, a woman of around forty, looking just a hell of a lot insane. Shane pushed himself more upright against the tree, breathing heavily, one hand still gripping Ryan's sleeve tight. She looked a bit familiar; her blue eyes, her dark curly hair. 

"Madej." She came closer, holding the gun up. "You deserve this. You deserve a more horrible death than the one I'm going to give you and your group of bastards."

Ryan kept himself between them, slipping a hand back around to the gun in his belt. The woman looked at him with those blue eyes, with the same haughty disdain her son always carried.

"Out of the way, sweetie." She came ever closer, barefooted, her heels hanging from one hand. "I want to look Madej in the eye. Just so he knows that it's me who's killing him."

"Who _are_ you?" asked Shane, letting Ryan slip back into his character of purity and innocence. "I don't even know-"

"Lucy," breathed Sara, hovering in the sidelines. "Lucy Goldsworth."

"Move, guy," said Lucy, giving Ryan a withering look as he came towards her. She was taller than him by a few inches. "He killed my son."

"Your son was an asshole." 

Ryan headbutted her right on the nose, and even as she fell he had hold of her head, snapping it to the side, her neck with it. She fell in a heap to the grass, as easily disposed of as her son was. Sara stood in stunned silence, eyes wide. Shane was openly smiling, a devilish one, which Ryan returned. Sara looked from one to the other, and she wasn't too sure if she'd rather them be enemies or allies. They were a bad mix, regardless of the way in which they worked. She watched as Ryan helped the other man to his feet, the two of them sharing an almost fond look. _Oh no_. She continued staring at them as she followed behind. _Oh God no_. It was like seeing Bonnie and Clyde come back to life. Regardless, she followed. She also made a mental note to quit if things got much messier.

* * *

Shane checked himself in the mirror, the fresh bandages on his body. They were wrapped right around his waist, and over his shoulder, all expertly done. Just like his hands had been. Ryan certainly had a vast knowledge of medical treatment for unorthodox wounds. "We're gonna need to buy more First Aid stuff. Would you do that tomorrow?"

"Yeah," shrugged Sara, lying across his couch. She was busy playing with Cal, who was still throwing suspicious glances at the other occupant in the room.

Ryan moved to stand beside the taller man, distractedly resting a hand on his chest. Shane studied their reflection for a moment, the shorter man with his back to the mirror, tracing a light pattern on the taller man's chest. He took hold of Ryan's hand, bringing it up, kissing it lightly. Kissing the very knuckles that had struck him many times, the hands that had actively tried to kill him. Ryan smiled.

"You look like a mummy," said the shorter man, finally raising his other hand, giving Shane a fresh shirt. "Now put this on, and then let's go. I've still got Oliveira to kill."

"You're just a killing machine, aren't you?" said Shane quietly, gently cupping the shorter man's face, brushing a thumb across his lips. 

Ryan placed a hand over Shane's, still smiling up at him. "Am I on your good side now, hm?"

"You're in a league of your own, Ryan."

They left Sara to babysit Cal in Shane's rooms. She was done for the night. Finished. Retired. Shane closed the door behind them, popping another painkiller as he followed Ryan back towards the elevator. His side and shoulder still throbbed dully, but the bleeding had subsided substantially, and he didn't want to leave Ryan. Not quite yet. The doors swished shut. Shane glanced at Ryan, who looked a tad concerned, staring at nothing.

"Would they have just let you die?" he suddenly blurted out, looking back at Shane. "I- I told them you were in trouble, and they didn't care."

Shane was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. Probably." He shrugged. "You outwitted me, Ryan. And they knew that. And if my worth is gone down, then what's the point in saving me?"

Ryan watched his face. "That's... harsh."

"They're a people who see everything in dollar signs, Bergara." Shane ran a hand back through his hair, his gaze distant. "That's just the way it is."

Ryan nodded slowly. "That sucks."

"I didn't care." It felt like the words were bricks in his throat. "I didn't care until you reminded me that not everyone out there is like that."

Ryan looked at him, and he saw a man. A man who had been hidden in the shadows for so long he'd basically become one. He turned his head away, blinking rapidly, trying to get rid of any sympathies beginning to bubble up in his chest. But any concerning thoughts and/or feelings were quickly pushed aside as the elevator doors opened, revealing a scene that had them both on edge instantly.

The party was empty. Abandoned. The music was still thumping, the lights still flashing, some glasses still rolling amid the blood. A lot of blood. It was splattered everywhere. It could've been wine, but how the hell did wine get on the ceiling? And it was too thick to be wine. The bodies strewn across the floor also added to the blood theory. Ryan stepped into the room, shattered glass crunching under his foot. He felt Shane's hand lightly take hold of his shoulder. 

"What the fuck happened?" muttered Shane, casting a wary glance around the empty room.

Ryan looked at the various doors, all of which were like scenes from a massacre. "I have no fucking idea."

A distant round of bullets being fired made them both jump, whipping out their own guns in unison, aiming them in the vague direction of the sound. Ryan turned to face the taller man, placing a hand on his chest to hold him back.

"You're not in any state for this," said Ryan firmly, nodding back towards the elevator. "Go back to your rooms."

Shane raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You will be a liability," said Ryan, each word emphasized. "So let me do my thing, and I'll let you know what's up."

"Uh, how about no." Shane turned his head towards the sound of distant gunfire again, taking a deep breath. "A captain never abandons his ship, little guy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/9ckv6-yhnIY 
> 
> v ironic song for the end that i would definitely have for credits if this was a movie/tv show


End file.
